
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 













































































































































































































































MRS. ATHELING AND PHILEMON. (Page 18.) 

Frontispiece. 



WHAT I TOLD DORCAS 




H Storg for /Mission THaotfters 

BY 

MARY E: 'IRELAND 


& 



WA8H'S$ ^ / 

NEW YORK -J -ClCL 

E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY 

31 West Twenty-third Street 
1895 


Copyright, 1895, 

By E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY. 


TO 

tffcrs* 5* 5* Detweller 

OF OMAHA, NEBRASKA 

A BELOVED AND EFFICIENT PRESIDENT OF 
THE WOMAN’S HOME AND FOREIGN MISSIONARY SOCIETY OF THE 
GENERAL SYNOD OF THE EVANGELICAL LUTHERAN CHURCH 
OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
AND TO THE OFFICERS AND MEMBERS OF MISSIONARY SOCIETIES OF 
EVERY DENOMINATION, THIS STORY OF A SOCIETY IN A RURAL 
NEIGHBORHOOD IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED BY 

THE AUTHOR 






















































































































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PREFACE. 


The form adopted in writing u What I Told 
Dorcas n was suggested by seeing, in my many 
years 7 association with missionary societies of 
different denominations, the need of a book 
for reading aloud at their meetings — a lively, 
suggestive, continued story, yet so constructed 
as to be read satisfactorily in monthly in- 
stalments. 

Being the opposite of sectarian, it seeks to 
unite all denominations in the noble work of 
missions, and, it is hoped, will not only prove 
acceptable to missionary, literary, and sewing 
societies, but to Sunday-school and other li- 
braries, and to all the dear home circles into 
which it may enter. M. E. I. 

Washington, D. C. 

























































CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 


I. Mrs. Atheling Joins a Missionary So- 
ciety 7 

II. Mrs. Atheling’s Membership Fee 22 

III. The Athelings at the Missionary Con- 

vention 39 

IV. Mrs. Atheling’s Contributing Member 65 

V. The Athelings after the Missionary 

Convention. 85 

VI. The Athelings at Quaker Missionary 

Meeting 105 

VII. Mrs. Atheling as a Home Missionary.. 138 

VIII. Sarah Petticord Collects for Missions 159 

IX. Mrs. Atheling’s Indian Missionary 182 

X. The Doll that Afterward became a 

Missionary 205 

XI. Mrs. Granger’s Contribution 220 

5 


6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XII. A Visit to the Grangers 231 

XIII. Sarah Petticord at the Committee 

Meeting 248 

XIV. Sister Tabitha’s Temperance Mission- 

ary 268 

XV. Mrs. Atheling’s Chinese Missionary.. 286 

XVI. The Minnesota Missionary Convention 313 

XVII. Brought into the Fold 340 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS 


A STORY FOR MISSION WORKERS. 


CHAPTER I. 

MRS. ATHELING JOINS A MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 

“ Good-evening, Dorcas. I hope I shall not 
hinder any school work you may have on hand 
by staying an hour or two with you. Phile- 
mon went to a political meeting in the village, 
and I came with him, for I must tell you of 
the missionary society we organized at the 
parsonage last week. 

“ But first I will mention how glad we are 
to have you again in your old home after 
your long absence, and glad you secured the 


8 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


position of teacher in the school where we 
were once pnpils. 

“ Yes, Dorcas, you will find many changes ; 
the majority of our old schoolmates have left 
the neighborhood, the most mischievous ur- 
chin is now a missionary in Africa, and the 
dunce of the school is a judge in Montana. 

u A few of them, however, live in their old 
homesteads ; among them Mary Slocum— now 
widowed ; Zedekiah Granger, whose farm ad- 
joins ours ; and Sarah Petticord, whom you 
knew as Sarah Cassimere. She and Simeon 
live in the old Cassimere home, which was, 
and is, the finest farm in the neighborhood. 

11 Speaking of Sarah reminds me of the mis- 
sionary meeting, and I will proceed to say 
that about a dozen of us were on hand, not one 
of whom had ever been at a missionary meet- 
ing ; and we knew no more about organizing 
one than would the poor heathen creatures 
we were going to Christianize. However, the 
minister and his wife, we hoped, would lead the 
way, and we were more than willing to follow. 


FORMING A MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 


9 


“When we were seated in the. parsonage 
parlor we found that poor Mrs. Chamberlain 
had one of her terrible spells of neuralgia, 
and had been in bed all the morning. She 
managed, however, to creep down to the par- 
lor with the help of Mr. Chamberlain, but 
hadn’t been seated a minute until her face 
turned as white as a sheet of paper, and she 
was so faint that she had to be almost carried 
back ; and thus one of our leaders had fallen 
before the skirmish commenced. 

“Well, as soon as Mr. Chamberlain came 
back, the meeting was called to order, and 
he remarked that the first business was to 
elect a president. 

“ 1 Some one of you ladies/ said he , 1 can nom- 
inate the one you consider the most suitable 
for the position, and we can then put it to vote.’ 

“He looked around at each of us, and we 
looked at one another, but nobody spoke. 

“ 1 1 hope some lady will select a name/ con- 
tinued Mr. Chamberlain, looking inquiringly 
at me. 


10 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ 1 Maybe Mrs. Chamberlain wouldn’t mind 
serving/ said I. 

u I could see that all the women were glad 
of their escape, and I felt my face flush with 
satisfaction that my very first speech in pub- 
lic was such a success. 

u But it didn’t stay a success, for Mr. 
Chamberlain asked to have her excused, say- 
ing that her attacks of neuralgia were so fre- 
quent that it would not be doing justice to 
herself nor the society to attempt to fill the 
position 5 and we agreed in our minds that he 
was right. 

“ 1 Please select another name, ladies/ said 
he, looking again at me. 

Maybe Sister Petticord wouldn’t mind 
being president/ said I, looking at Sarah, who 
didn’t give the least sign but what it was the 
very honor she was longing for ; so I flushed 
again as I said to myself, 1 Matilda Atheling, 
no matter how useful you are in other direc- 
tions, in a missionary meeting you are cer- 
tainly a power.’ 


FORMING A MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 11 


“ What made me so proud of my choice was 
that I was satisfied in my own mind that if 
any woman looked a president — or a princess, 
or an empress, for that matter — Sarah Petti- 
cord is that one ; she is so calm and stately, 
handsome and dignified. 

11 And looks isn’t .all, either ; for she accom- 
plishes more in her easy, quiet way than 
any two women I know. When she takes 
hold of a Sunday-school, public library, de- 
bating society, sewing-class, or anything else, 
it is bound to succeed ; so I knew that our 
missionary society couldn’t be in safer hands, 
and complimented myself again upon my 
shrewdness. 

a 1 Who will second the motion ? ’ continued 
our minister. 

“ I was so set up with my success as a wire- 
puller that I was about to give a lift in that 
direction also, but was saved by poor, timid 
little Mrs. Primrose piping out 4 1 do,’ her face 
scarlet at hearing her voice in meeting. 

“ ‘ It is moved and seconded that Mrs. Pet- 


12 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


ticord be president/ said Mr. Chamberlain. 
‘ All in favor will please say “ Aye ! ” ’ 

u Everybody responded except Sarah 5 she 
was silent, calm, and sweet, her fair face 
turned slightly upward, as her beautiful dark- 
blue eyes rested upon a picture over the piano. 

“ 1 All opposed say “ Np ! ” ’ continued Mr. 
Chamberlain. 

“ ‘ No ! ’ said Sarah. 

“'Won’t you accept the position, Mrs. 
Petticord?’ inquired our minister, in sur- 
prise. 

‘"No/ replied she; 'I know nothing of 
mission work, and am not willing to usurp the 
place of some member who might manage 
better. I will not take the lead in anything 
of which I am ignorant.’ 

"No, Dorcas, we didn’t urge; we knew it 
would be useless, for Sarah’s refusal was as 
unanimous, as one may say, as her election. 
She meant wdiat she said and said what she 
meant ; and we who knew her well should 
have known that she would let us nominate 


FORMING A MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 13 


and elect her and not inform us that she 
wouldn’t serve unless we asked her the ques- 
tion. That is her way. 

“It called to mind the time that Sarah 
Cassimere and myself were chosen leaders in 
a spelling-match. She was, as you know, the 
brightest girl in school, and always chosen 
for leader by the side lucky enough to have 
first choice. I knew that, ten chances to one, 
she would spell me and all the followers on 
both sides to them desks, and keep the floor 
as long as the teacher’s patience held out to 
give her words. 

“Well, after a time our side was spelling 
hers down in a surprising and highly satis- 
factory way ; but Sarah didn’t give the least 
sign that she cared or even noticed that her 
spellers were deserting her, but was, as usual, 
smiling and serene. 

“Presently the word 1 serge’ came to me. 

“ 1 S-u-r-g-e,’ said I, without a shadow of 
misgiving. 

“ 4 S-e-r-g-e,’ corrected Sarah, promptly. 


14 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ ‘ Sarah is right/ said the teacher, look- 
ing at me. 

“ ‘ 1 never heard of it being spelled in that 
way/ said I, reddening, yet certain I was 
correct. 

“ ‘ I am to blame for your mistake, Matilda/ 
said the teacher, kindly j ‘ I should have men- 
tioned that two words of different meanings 
are pronounced the same way ; to which did 
you allude 1 7 

“ ‘ Why, to the dark, rolling surge/ replied 
I, recalling the words of an old song. 

“‘Well/ said Sarah, ‘this is not the roll- 
ing article ; it is stationary cassimere. 7 

“ The teacher smiled and the scholars gig- 
gled at Sarah’s pun on her own name • but I 
was in no humor for fun — instead, was grow- 
ing angry over my mistake, while Sarah 
stood serene and pretty as a picture. 

“ ‘ East 7 was the next word given me. 

“ ‘ Y-e-a-s-t/ said I, confidently. 

“ ‘ E-a-s-t/ corrected Sarah, quickly. 

“ ‘ There are two words pronounced that 


FORMING A MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 15 


way ! 7 exclaimed I, flushing deeply ; ‘ I mean 
the other one. 7 

“ 1 What east did you mean, Matilda ? 7 in- 
quired the teacher. 

“ 4 The kind you put in bread-dough to make 
it rise, 7 1 said, defiantly. 

“ 1 It wouldn’t rise unless you sounded the 
y] said Sarah. 1 Make it yeast and you will 
help your bread to rise ; give the sun east and 
he will help himself. 7 

“There was a shout of laughter from the 
scholars, and while the teacher was rebuk- 
ing them I went to my seat ; and from that 
day to this, when speaking of rising for bread, 
I take Sarah’s advice and give it a y. 

“Well, I watched Sarah spelling with the 
certainty of a machine ; and after a time the 
word 1 lie 7 came to her, and she spelled it 1-i-e. 

“Now I had gone back to my seat, and 
hadn’t any right to say a word ; but before 
I could think of that I called out ‘ L-y-e, lie. 7 

“The spelling was interrupted, and the 
whole school looked *at Sarah to see how she 


16 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


took it. She made no response, nor did she 
show by the quiver of an eyelid that she 
heard me. 

“ 1 There is but one kind of “ lye n in this 
lesson/ said I, angrily, ‘and that is the one 
used in making soap, and not the kind which 
Sarah is acting by standing there instead of 
sitting at her desk as I am doing/ 

“ ‘No, Matilda/ said the teacher, 4 there are 
two “lies” in this lesson ; but the one I gave 
Sarah is the one used in making soap, so as 
to that point you are right/ 

u There wasn’t a girl in school except Sarah 
but would have gone to her seat, or argued 
that the teacher should have mentioned the 
kind of 1 lie ’ she gave out ; but that was not 
Sarah’s way. She just stood there as placid 
as a summer sea, waiting her turn to spell, 
and when it came, spelling right; and her 
side beat mine, as I was sure it would. 

“Well, to proceed with the missionary 
meeting. We found that being president of 
one was an honor that went begging. Every 


FORMING A MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 17 


name there was mentioned, but the owners 
declined ; and at length it was settled — a 
little against her will — that Sister Benson 
was to be president and Mrs. Chamberlain 
first vice-president, to help her when needed. 
They elected me second vice-president, and I 
said nothing against it, knowing the duties 
of second vice-president of anything aren’t 
very cumbersome; not that I wish to shirk 
my share of duty, if I only know what the 
duty and share are. 

“As soon as that point was settled, Mr. 
Chamberlain said we must appoint commit- 
tees to visit absent members of the congre- 
gation and invite them to join us. There 
was no trouble in getting names for this ; a 
list was soon made out, with the places each 
was to go to. Then we proceeded to the next 
question, which was that of a membership fee. 

“ There was no trouble about that, either, 
except that some of the women whispered 
to one another that they didn’t know where 
the money was to come from. 


18 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


u Then the next thing was framing the con- 
stitution; and Mr. Chamberlain said, if we 
requested it, he would prepare it in readiness 
for the next meeting, to which we were glad 
to agree. 

“ After it had been decided that all succeed- 
ing meetings were to be held in the lecture- 
room of the church, and a lot of little paper 
mite-boxes had been brought forward for each 
of us to select one, Mr. Chamberlain read 
some thrilling accounts of the condition of 
the poor creatures in heathen countries, and 
made a touching prayer that we might each 
and all be faithful workers in the vineyard 
of mission work ; and the first meeting of 
the D orton Missionary Society was over, and 
had been what might be called a success. 

“Well, after I got home, and tea was over, 
Philemon and I took our accustomed seats 
before the open fire upon the hearth, he with 
his American Farmer , and I with my knitting. 
You know, Dorcas, since our son David mar- 
ried and made a home of his own, Philemon 


FORMING A MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 19 


and I are alone in the old homestead of the 
Athelings ; and I am thankful that we have 
known each other all our lives, and know the 
same people, for we have so many things to 
talk of, and are never lonely. 

“I mistrusted that missionary meetings 
would he a subject that Philemon wouldn’t 
be much at home in; but if I wanted to 
make him acquainted with it, I must wait 
for a suitable time to give the introduction, 
which was when he laid down the paper, took 
his knife from his pocket, and commenced par- 
ing one of the big red apples from the plate at 
his elbow, throwing the parings into the blaze. 

“ Then said I, ‘ Philemon ! ’ 

“ Said he, ‘Well!’ 

“ ‘ 1 was at a missionary meeting this after- 
noon/ said I; ‘it met at the parsonage.’ 

“ ‘Well, what good did you do?’ remarked 
he, dryly enough. 

“‘We haven’t had time to do any good yet,’ 
said I ; ‘ the greatest undertaking was to elect 
a president, but we got it done.’ 


20 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ ‘ And I suppose you have gotten a con- 
viction that you must convert the heathen 
forthwith.’ 

u 1 It’s not so much that I have the convic- 
tion, Philemon, as that the conviction has 
me. The subject of missions must be very 
interesting and popular to have reached Dor- 
ton, and now that it is here we want to treat 
it as well as we can. So we have organized 
a missionary society, and each of us is to 
pay a membership fee.’ 

Where do you calculate to get the 
money ? ’ inquired Philemon, in his dry busi- 
ness tone. 

“ ‘ Why,’ said I, 1 the women who have it of 
their own will use it, and the women who 
haven’t will ask their husbands for it, as I in- 
tend doing when the time comes.’ 

“ ‘ But it will take money from our church 
that is badly needed for repairs — that is what 
it wall do,’ said he. 1 A new roof must be put 
on it, or the rain dropping through will loosen 
the plastering, and the next thing it will fall ; 


FORMING A MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 21 


and new spouting is needed, and lots of other 
improvements. And there are new books 
needed for the Sunday-school library; what 
money I have to spare must go there, and 
toward repairing the church/ 

u 1 Yes, Philemon/ said I, 1 you are real 
good at giving according to your means ; but 
it was agreed at our meeting that our contri- 
butions must not come out of what we lay 
aside for Sunday-school or any church work 
whatever ; it must be extra/ 

u 1 Well, extra or no extra, I haven’t a cent 
to waste on heathen that I know nothing 
about and don’t want to know.’ And Phil- 
emon took up his paper and went on reading, 
and I knit away and considered.” 


CHAPTER II. 

MRS. ATHELING’S MEMBERSHIP FEE. 

“Why, good-afternoon, Dorcas. I am so 
glad that a holiday in your school gave you 
the opportunity to come to the missionary 
meeting. And I am glad we both came early ; 
for we have the lecture-room all to ourselves, 
and can have a good talk before the others 
come. 

“ Our society is more than a year old, and 
certainly progressing ; there isn’t one meet- 
ing that some new name is not added to the 
list. And it is wonderful how easily the 
money for the membership fee and mite- 
boxes was obtained when we made up our 
minds that it must be had; and I must tell 
you how I got mine. 

“You know that Philemon is one of the 
22 


MRS. A THELING’S MEMBERSHIP FEE. 23 


most liberal-minded creatures in the world 
in proportion to liis means — gives to every- 
thing that is asked for in the church, and 
helps everybody that needs help, so far as he 
can. 

“ I never saw him flinch until I spoke of 
the money for the missionary society, when 
he went so far as to say that he wouldn’t 
give a cent; and I know him well enough 
not to argue with him at that stage of the 
business. He takes no interest in the subject, 
and says there is no need to cross oceans to 
find heathen ; but let him once be convinced 
that duty is at the helm, and there will not 
be a miserly finger to the helping hand that 
Philemon Atheling will hold out. 

“ But that is in the future ; what was to 
be considered was present needs; and one 
evening as we were sitting, he with his paper 
and I with my knitting, I began to think 
over what I could sell that would bring in 
enough money to pay my fee and put some- 
thing in the mite^box. 


24 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“I couldn’t think of anything that could 
be spared except an old-time patch- work quilt, 
which had never been used, but kept as a 
memento of those who had made it more than 
a hundred years ago. 

u I didn’t know of any one who needed a 
quilt j moreover, I have always noticed when 
one wants to sell anything everybody is well 
supplied with that very article. 

“All at once it came into my mind that 
Neighbor Peterson, who was intending to 
move from the neighborhood, was to have a 
sale, and maybe would allow my quilt to be 
sold with his goods. 

“ ‘ Philemon,’ said I, when he paused in 
his reading, and was gazing into the tire as 
he frequently does. 

“ ‘Well?’ said he. 

11 1 When is Mr. Peterson to have his sale f ’ 

u 1 Why, next Thursday. But see here, Ma- 
tilda, I hope you are not thinking of going. 
If there is anything I hate more than another 
it is to see women at sales. They have no 


MRS. ATHELING’S MEMBERSHIP FEE. 25 

business there; they might as well go to 
elections. 7 

u 1 Yes, Philemon, 7 said I, 1 1 suppose they 
ought to go to elections, but I am not edu- 
cated up to the point to be sure of it. But 
I believe that our missionary society will so 
expand our hearts and enlarge our ideas that 
we shall consider it a duty to try to reach out 
a helping hand to our Christian as well as 
our heathen sisters. I have all the rights I 
want, but there are plenty of women who 
haven’t; and I really suppose that we who 
have kind husbands to protect and care for 
us should try to get a share in making laws 
in order to benefit other women. But I am not 
going to the sale — I only asked the question. 7 

“ £ But why did you ask the question ? 7 

11 1 Because I wanted to know. 7 

“ 1 Well, I was only afraid you wanted to go 
to bid against yourself, as women generally 
do at salels. 7 

“ ‘ No ; make your mind easy about that, 
Philemon, 7 said I, laughing in spite of my- 


26 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


self. So lie picked up his paper and went on 
reading. 

“Well, the next evening I went to the 
village to see Mary Bassett, and to ask 
her brother Sidney, who is auctioneer, if he 
thought Mr. Peterson would be willing to 
have a quilt put up for sale among his goods. 

“He said he w r as quite sure Mr. Peterson 
would not object, and all I had to do was to 
bring it and leave it with Mary j he would see 
to the rest. 

“ ‘ But I fear you will be sorry after it is 
gone, and wish it back/ said Mary. 

“ ‘ Yes, I would rather not part with it/ 
said I, 1 but I will look upon it as a treasure 
laid up in heaven . 7 And then knowing that 
Mary and Sidney had known Philemon all 
their lives and thought everything of him, 
I told them the whole story, assured it 
would go no farther. They both laughed and 
said, ‘ O Mrs. Atheling, you’ll fetch him 
around ; he will be going on a mission him- 
self some day . 7 


MRS. ATHELING’S MEMBERSHIP FEE. 27 


“Well, the next evening, when supper was 
over, and Philemon was seated by the table 
with his paper and a plate of mellow apples, 
I went upstairs for the quilt. It was in a 
linen sheet in the lower drawer of the bureau 
in the spare room ; and the tears came into my 
eyes when I thought of it being the last time 
I was ever to see it. I thought of the sum- 
mer days when I was a child visiting at my 
grandmother’s, when the great event of my 
day was to look at each scrap of old-time 
print, and listen to histories of many of them, 
and wonder how my great-grandmother could 
have made anything so beautiful when only 
a few years older than I was then. 

u The quilt always retained the fragrance 
of the roses that my grandmother gathered 
each June and put with it until the very 
wood of the bureau was rose-scented , and 
it seemed, as I gazed upon it, that I could 
hear the song of the birds in the garden of old- 
time flowers, and the lazy droning of bees 
about the eaves of the old stone farm-house. 


28 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


u I gazed again upon the piece of the gown 
my grandmother wore the day she first met 
the young man who afterward became her hus- 
band j the piece of pink-and- white print their 
first babe wore ; the scrap of the scarlet 
jacket which guided the frightened parents 
to the spot amid the ripening wheat where 
their little boy had lain down to sleep. 

u I didn’t tarry long, fearing that I should 
not be able to part with it; but taking it 
downstairs I placed it in the hall while I 
told Philemon I was going up to the village 
a little while, and then hurried out. 

u 1 Have yon set a price upon it, Mrs. Athel- 
ing ? 7 asked Sidney, after he and Mary had 
admired it, and wondered over the exquisite 
manner in which it had been quilted. 

“ ‘ No , 7 said I ; 1 patchwork quilts are old- 
fashioned, and I cannot expect any one to 
value it as I do. A handsome white spread 
can be bought for five dollars ; if I get four 
and a half for this I shall be well satisfied to 
have it go, so far as price is concerned . 7 


MRS. A REELING’S MEMBERSHIP FEE. 29 


“‘You may depend upon my doing the 
very best I can for it, Mrs. Atheling,’ said 
Sidney 5 ‘I will not offer it until bidding 
upon that line of goods becomes spirited. 
Will you allow me to mention something in 
regard to its history and mission ? Iam sure 
it would attract the interest of bidders, which 
would insure a fair price for it.’ 

“‘Yes, if you choose, Sidney/ said I; ‘it’s 
nothing to be ashamed of 5 besides, folks 
won’t know whose quilt it is.’ 

“So I went home with the understanding 
that I was to come the next evening for the 
money, and resolving that, no matter how 
much or how little it might be, a half-dollar 
should be used as a membership fee and all 
the rest go into the mite-box. 

“ In the meantime, Philemon had been 
exercised in mind in regard to a birthday 
present for me j for we make it a rule never 
to let each other’s anniversary pass without 
some little token of remembrance. 

“In his pocket-book were two bright ten- 


30 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


dollar gold-pieces ; and lie had intended to go 
to town the next day — as he afterward told 
me — and buy something with one of them to 
have in readiness for my birthday, which 
came upon the day of the missionary meeting 
for that month, and the day after the sale at 
Mr. Peterson’s. 

“But that night it poured rain, and the 
mud which prevented him from driving to 
town left him at liberty to go to the sale — 
which was the most successful of the season ; 
and he resolved to go, and in lieu of the 
present from town, give me one of the ten- 
dollar gold-pieces. 

“ All the farmers in the neighborhood were 
there — for nothing could be done upon their 
land — and bought things they had never 
thought of buying, just for the fun of bid- 
ding against one another. 

“ ‘ Now, gentlemen,’ said Sidney, unfolding 
the quilt and draping it over his arm, 1 1 have 
here a specimen of antique work which the 
wives of all of you will want. It was left in 


MRS. ATHELING’S MEMBERSHIP FEE. 31 


my charge to be sold for benevolent purposes. 
It has prints in it over a century old, and, be- 
sides its beauty, has the merit of being always 
useful and comfortable. Now, gentlemen, to 
prove that I know a good article when I see 
it, I will give ten dollars as my first bid. Who 
will say twelve 1 7 

u 1 Twelve dollars ! 7 shouted a voice in the 
crowd. 

u 1 Twelve dollars I have — twelve dollars ! 
Gentlemen, we will not let this beautiful 
article go for twelve dollars; I will give 
fourteen. Fourteen dollars I have — fourteen 
dollars — fourteen ! 7 

11 1 Fifteen dollars ! 7 shouted Philemon ; for 
the thought came to him that I might be as 
well pleased with a handsome quilt as any- 
thing I could buy. 

“ Sidney Bassett smiled and bowed. 

“ ‘ Fifteen dollars I have — fifteen dollars — 
fifteen ! 7 

11 ‘ Sixteen ! 7 shouted another voice in the 
crowd. 


32 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“‘Sixteen dollars I have — sixteen! — Did 
you say seventeen V — nodding to a farmer 
standing by. 

The farmer gave an affirmative nod. 

“ 1 Seventeen dollars I have — seventeen 
d-o-l-l-a-r-s ! Anybody want a splendid quilt 
for a mere song ? Eighteen dollars I have — 
eighteen ! 7 

“ ‘ Nineteen ! 7 shouted the voice in the 
crowd. 

“ ‘ Nineteen dollars I have — nineteen dol- 
lars — nineteen dollars ! Gentlemen, all done 
at only nineteen dollars ? 7 

u 1 Twenty ! 7 cried Philemon. 

“ 1 Twenty dollars I have — twenty dollars ! 
Gentlemen, the quilt is sold for twenty dollars 
to Mr. Atheling. Now for the next article . 7 

“Although it took both gold-pieces to pay 
for it, Philemon was delighted with his bar- 
gain ; and as soon as the auction was over he 
pressed his way to Sidney Bassett, paid the 
money, got a receipt, then asked him to take 
the quilt home with him and give it into the 


MRS. ATH FLING’S MEMBERSHIP FEE. 33 


care of Mary, as he wished to surprise me 
with it the next day as my birthday present. 
So the old quilt passed a second night under 
the Bassett roof. 

u As soon as supper was over, I went to the 
village; and Mary said, the minute she saw 
me, 1 Dear Mrs. Atheling, your quilt did 
better than we expected ; 7 and she put into 
my hands the two ten-dollar gold-pieces ;■ and 
all I could say was, 1 Praise God, from whom 
all blessings flow . 7 Mary never mentioned 
who had bought it, and I did not care to ask 
her; but thanking her for her and Sidney’s 
kindness, I came home. 

“ The next morning Philemon went over to 
the village ; and when he came back he had a 
great package in his hand ; and what should 
it be but the dear old quilt, which had gone 
out on a mission, and, having accomplished 
it, returned to its quiet resting-place ! Noth- 
ing in the wide world that Philemon could 
have bought with the gold-pieces would 
have pleased me more ; and it was his 


34 


WIIAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


money, after all, that was going into the 
mite-box. 

“That afternoon I went to the meeting of 
our society, and all the mite-boxes were 
opened, among them mine with its twenty 
dollars in gold • and I thought it right to give 
a little account of it. 

“ ‘ Ladies/ said the president, 1 we have 
spoken of making Sister Atheling our first 
life-member ; I propose her name to-day.’ 

“And it was seconded, and passed unan- 
imously ; and I really think that birthday was 
one of the very happiest of my life. 

“ 1 Ladies/ continued Mrs. Benson, 1 these 
gold-pieces, having such a history, should be 
used for a special purpose; do any of you 
know of a great need for that sum ? 7 

“No one spoke for a while, then Sarah 
Petticord gave her opinion in her usual 
decided way. 

Ui I have a cousin/ said she, 1 a bright, in- 
telligent young man, who has used up all his 
means in obtaining a thorough medical edu- 


MliS. ATHELING’S MEMBERSHIP FEE. 35 

cation. His great object in life is to go to 
Siam as medical missionary, bnt he wishes 
first to learn the language. By the help of 
books, and instruction from a native of Siam 
who has an art-store in the city where he re- 
sides, he can learn the language in a few 
months, and the expense would not be over 
twenty dollars. If Sister Atheling and others 
are willing, I will write to him this evening 
and tell him the money is here. After he 
has learned the language he will apply to his 
church to send him as missionary/ 

“Well, we were all agreed, for we know 
that enlightening the mind and healing the 
body go hand in hand in mission work; 
and we might as well expect a carpenter 
to build a house without tools as expect a 
medical missionary to prescribe for a patient 
and speak of Christ in a language the poor 
creatures could not understand. It is true 
the carpenter could borrow tools from some 
other workman — perhaps as busy as himself 
— and the missionary might employ an inter- 


36 


WHAT I TOLD DOBCAS. 


preter if one were to be had ; but the work is 
hindered and hampered. 

“ So Sarah Petticord wrote that very even- 
ing, and the young man accepted gratefully 
the offer ; the money was sent, he learned the 
language, sailed for Siam, and at the last 
meeting of the society Sarah Petticord read a 
letter from him to the members, and in it 
were these words, which I heard with happy 
tears : 

11 1 Since I have taken up the medical mis- 
sion work here, you cannot know how often 
I have had occasion to thank God that the 
means and opportunity were given to me to 
learn the language before I came, as I can 
give my whole attention to my patients with- 
out hindrance. Our mission has not had a 
physician here for a number of years, and 
during that time there was not a place in 
this, the capital city, with more than four 
hundred thousand inhabitants, where medical 
advice or medicine could be obtained by the 
sick poor. True, the natives have their own 


MRS. ATHELING’S MEMBERSHIP FEE. 37 


physicians and remedies; hut their medical 
men know nothing of the anatomy of the 
human body, nor can they perform the most 
trifling of surgical operations. The remedies 
are horrible mixtures made from roots and 
the dried livers and galls, etc., of birds and 
reptiles, which they give in immense quan- 
tities to the poor sufferers, from a pint to two 
quarts in twenty-four hours being considered 
ordinary treatment. The first case I had was 
a man suffering with erysipelas of the head — 
particular^ of the throat. For two weeks he 
hovered between life and death, and for ten 
days could not swallow food; and I had to 
resort to other modes of alimentation. One 
night I thought he would not live until morn- 
ing unless there came a great change for the 
better ; and kneeling by his bedside, I prayed 
aloud in language that he and his friends 
could understand, asking God to spare his 
life as a token that it was His work in which 
I was engaged. I arose believing the man 
would recover, and he did, and is a faithful 


38 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


member of the Sunday-school which I organ- 
ized with native teachers, and also attends 
our chapel. To every patient I visit I tell the 
story of the cross, and rejoice that my useful- 
ness is not hindered by having to struggle 
with the difficulty of making myself under- 
stood. For this I again ask God’s blessing 
to rest upon the lady who so generously gave 
the twenty dollars, and upon all the members 
of the society who devoted it to this cause.’ 

“ And that is the way I got my membership 
fee. 

u There comes our president, and with her 
Sarah Petticord, looking as fair and sweet as 
one of the day-lilies in our garden.” 


CHAPTER III. 

THE ATHELINGS AT THE MISSIONARY CON- 
VENTION. 

“ No, Dorcas, our talking won’t disturb the 
boy. If he were ill we would keep silent, but 
he has only broken a limb; his mother is 
nervous, and feared that fever would set in, 
and said it would be a comfort to have us 
watch to-night. 

“I have known Tony Hackett from the 
cradle; he is as hardy as a pine-knot; he 
will sleep all night, and in a few weeks will 
be as well as ever. 

“We won’t whisper, for nothing wakes a 
well person or torments a sick one like 
whispering ; but we will talk in a low, 
soothing tone. 

“You asked me last evening, as we came 
39 


40 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


out of prayer-meeting, about the Woman’s 
Convention at Missionburg. I knew there 
was but little use in trying to tell you of the 
grand time we had and the people we met, 
when the sexton was putting out the lights ; 
and instead, was intending to take my knitting 
this evening, while Philemon was at the com- 
mittee meeting, and tell you all about it, 
when who should come in but Tony’s little 
sister to ask me to come to sit up, and to 
bring you with me. So we can talk the 
whole night and nobody be the wiser. 

“Well, to begin at the beginning. At the 
May meeting of our Auxiliary Society the 
subject of the convention at Missionburg was 
brought up, and a delegate was to be sent. 
It was decided that the minister’s wife should 
go; and she said it would give her great 
pleasure if some one of the members could go 
with her, and turning to me she said : 

“ ‘Maybe Sister Atheling can go.’ 

“ ‘ No,’ said I, while I was trying to keep 
down the feeling of disappointment that 


AT THE MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 41 

would rise in spite of me, ‘I can’t leave 
Philemon ; he would be so lonely. Now that 
David is gone, there are none but Philemon 
and myself $ no, I can’t go.’ 

“ After the meeting was over, Mrs. Cham- 
berlain came to me and said : 

u 1 Sister Atheling, I do wish you could go. 
It may seem very selfish in me, but I cannot 
help saying that the mere thought of your 
being in Missionburg would do me good, 
even if you were at one end of the town and 
I at the other.’ 

“ You see, the poor creature has such terri- 
ble times with the neuralgia that I would have 
been glad to go on her account if no other. 

“Well, I came home from the meeting and 
tried to forget all about the convention, and 
did not even think it worth while to mention 
it to Philemon, when he came one evening 
from a committee meeting in the finest spirits. 

“ ‘ Matilda,’ said he, * the delegate they ap- 
pointed for Synod can’t go, and they want me 
to go in his place.’ 


42 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ c Now, Philemon/ said I, 1 1 wish I had 
known that the day of onr missionary meet- 
ing. They wanted me to go to the Woman’s 
Convention that meets at the same time at 
Missionburg; but I knew it would be lonely 
at home for you, so I would not promise ; we 
both could have gone.’ 

u 1 A woman’s convention ! ’ said he, in a 
ridiculing tone; ‘what do women want of 
conventions? They ought to leave all such 
business to men.’ 

“ 4 It is their privilege and duty to go, 
Philemon,’ said I, calmly. 

“ ‘ Yes,’ said he, in his quizzical fashion, 4 1 
reckon they do consider it their duty to meet 
now and again to tell one another what a 
time they have pinching and scrimping to get 
money for the heathen, and how they have to 
sacrifice because their stingy husbands won’t 
give them any.’ 

“No, Dorcas, I didn’t say anything to this, 
for there is no use in arguing unless you are 
sure of convincing; and Philemon, as I said 


AT THE MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 43 


before, was not as yet interested in missions, 
and fussing was not the way to interest him, 
so I waited my time. 

“ ‘ Well, Philemon,’ said I, ‘you were never 
better fixed to go than now ; for David farms 
the land this year, and will see that all goes 
on right ; the corn is in and doing well, the 
stock is in good condition, and everything 
prospering on the place. Your brown suit is 
in good order, and I will borrow the satchel 
David bought when he was going on his wed- 
ding-journey ; and there is nothing in the 
world to hinder you from going.’ 

“As soon as supper was over and my bit of 
evening work done, and Philemon settled by 
the lamp with his newspaper, I put on my 
wraps and went to the village to see Mary 
Bassett. 

“ ‘ Mary,’ said I, ‘ have you any good black 
silk among your bonnet fixings? I am in- 
tending to make a necktie for Philemon — 
he is going to the Woman’s Convention at 
Missionburg.’ 


44 


WHAT I TOLD DOECAS. 


“ Mary was anxious to oblige, and went to 
searching for the silk ; and I was hoping she 
would find it, when a lot of girls came chatter- 
ing and laughing into her shop to see about 
new hats. But first come first served with 
Mary, no matter if the second comer was 
Queen Victoria. She found a real nice piece 
of silk, and I went home. 

“ When I was half-way from the village the 
thought struck me that I had told Mary Bas- 
sett that Philemon was going to the Woman’s 
Convention ; and I just stood in the middle of 
the road and clasped my hands in worriment, 
while my face burned like a coal of fire. 

Ui Matilda Atheling,’ said I to myself, 
1 what ever possessed you to say such a 
thing ? What will Philemon think if he 
hears it — and it is most likely he will — he 
who thinks women’s conventions so silly ? ’ 

“I had a mind to go back and call Mary 
Bassett aside and ask her to say nothing 
about it; but I remembered that the girls 
were there, and I said to myself, 1 It is of no 


AT THE MISSIONAEY CONVENTION. 45 


use ; if she was going to tell it, she has done 
it before now.’ So I went home. I felt mean 
as could be when I saw Philemon sitting 
there so unconscious of what I had said, and 
I took my knitting and sat down to think it 
all over. 

“I had just worried myself up to the re- 
solve to tell Philemon all about it when it 
came into my mind, 1 Now, Matilda Atheling, 
leave that worry to the Lord, as you have left 
mauy another worry. You did not mean any 
harm when you said that Philemon was going 
to a woman’s convention, and the Lord will 
see that no harm comes of it.’ And as soon 
as I realized this, peace came to my heart, and 
I went to bed happy and contented. 

“Well, Dorcas, I got David’s satchel, and 
Philemon’s clothes were all neat and fast in 
it; but the evening before he was to go he 
said, just as we arose from the supper-table : 

“ ‘ Matilda, I don’t think I will go to Synod 
as a delegate, or any other way.’ 

“ 1 Not go ! ’ said I, in astonishment. 1 Why, 


46 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


Philemon! After I have borrowed David’s 
satchel, and got yon two new handkerchiefs, 
and made you a necktie, for you to go and say 
you don’t think you will go ! ’ And I looked 
searchingly at him, fearing he was not well, 
and was keeping it from me. 

“ ‘No,’ said he, reading my thoughts, ‘ 1 am 
well enough, but I don’t care to go. There 
will be plenty there without me, and folks will 
wonder why they picked on me to go.’ 

“All at once it flashed into my mind that 
somebody had told Philemon that I had said 
he was going to a woman’s convention. 

“‘Philemon,’ said I, ‘has anybody been 
twitting you about going to the — ’ and there 
I halted; for I would not say Woman’s Con- 
vention, and my conscience would not let me 
say Synod, so I said, ‘ Missionburg ? ’ 

“‘No,’ said he; ‘and what would I care if 
they did ? I have a right to go where I please, 
haven’t I?’ 

“ ‘ To be sure you have a right, Philemon, 
and they must have wanted you to go, or they 


AT THE MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 47 

would not have asked you. 7 Then I said to 
myself , 1 Matilda Atheling, why will you allow 
yourself to be blown about by every passing 
breeze ? Why can’t you have a firm convic- 
tion that the Lord is never slack concerning 
His promises ? 7 

“ 1 Yes, 7 said he, ‘ they want me, but I don’t 
think I will go. 7 

11 ‘ Maybe you think David can’t send over 
in time in the mornings to attend to the 
stock ? 7 said I, inquiringly. 

“ 1 No, everything will be managed as well 
as if I were here ; but I don’t think I will go. 7 

“ 1 But our minister will be disappointed, 
and will think you don’t care to go with him. 7 

u 1 Oh, there will be plenty in the congrega- 
tion glad to go, and I believe they may, for I 
don’t think I will leave home. 7 

“‘Now, Philemon, 7 said I, earnestly, ‘we 
have traveled the same road for nearly twenty- 
five years, and it is not worth while to begin 
now to speak in that obscure way. Why don’t 
you want to go to Synod as a delegate ? 7 


48 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“‘Well/ said he, in a shamefaced way, ‘I 
am afraid I will be lonely among all those 
strangers without yon. I almost wish you 
had made up your mind to go to the Woman’s 
Convention, although I don’t much believe in 
them. I could have employed Sam Burnside 
to attend to the stock, that David or his boy 
might not have to come so early, and the 
house could have taken care of itself. Why 
can’t you go yet ? ’ 

“ Now, I did not smile at this, for Philemon 
was not used to going away from home. In 
the few visits he had made since he brought 
me a bride to the farm-house I had always 
been with him j and I must acknowledge that 
I felt a little hurt that he had been willing to 
go to Missionburg without me. But I said 
nothing, for I always call to mind the saying 
that we cannot keep uncharitable thoughts 
from flying about our heads, but we can keep 
them from building nests in our hair. So I 
said : 

“‘That is a fact, Philemon- I would be 


AT THE MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 49 


lost there without you, and you would be 
lonely without me; we will both go to Mis- 
sionburg.’ 

“ I never saw Philemon more pleased ; and 
he said he would go right up to the village 
and engage Sam Burnside. 

“While he was gone I finished my even- 
ing’s work, and all the time my mind was 
busy planning. As soon as he came back 
and was settled comfortably for the evening, 
I went up to see Mary Bassett, and, as good 
luck would have it, found her alone. 

“ 1 Mary/ said I, ‘ if you ever worked fast in 
your life, I want you to work fast now, for I 
want a new bonnet by eleven o’clock to-mor- 
row; Philemon and I are both going to the 
Woman’s Convention.’ 

“ Mary Bassett is, as you know, one of the 
most obliging creatures that ever lived, and 
she said it should be done; so I chose a 
silver-gray silk, and ribbon to match, and she 
promised to make a nice bonnet out of it, and 
I went home. 


50 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ Philemon was still reading, and after I sat 
down with my knitting he said : 

“‘We will sit together in the cars, Matilda, 
and will stand a chance of being invited to the 
same place. 7 

“ I agreed with him, and he went on reading 
his paper and I went on planning. 

“ The next morning the bonnet came home 
in good time, and we set off npon onr jour- 
ney ; and although the cars were full, we got 
a seat together, Philemon next the window, 
so he could look out at the farms we passed. 
And I never did see anybody enjoy a trip 
more. He saw every sheep and cow on that 
side of the track, and every now and again he 
would say, 1 Matilda, that corn is not quite so 
good as ours or, ‘ That corn is a little ahead 
of ours and I was glad that he was not a bit 
discouraged because it was better. 

11 When we got to Missionburg you would 
have thought the Synod and convention had 
both met at the station. There were a goodly 
number of kind-looking women waiting for 


AT THE MISSI ONAE Y CONVENTION. 51 


the train, and such a shaking of hands and kiss- 
ing you never saw ; and one sweet-faced sister 
came to me, and said she : 

“‘Mrs. Atheling, you are to come to my 
house ; just take a seat in the station, please, 
until I collect my party.’ 

“ I went in, and who should I see but our 
minister’s wife, who had come the day before. 
She jumped up and threw her arms around 
me, and said she : 

“ 1 You dear old dear ! If I had known you 
were out there you would not have found me 
sitting here.’ 

“ She led me to a seat, and when we looked 
up there was Philemon, who had come in to 
find me ; and our minister’s wife shook hands 
with him and thanked him for bringing me. 

“ Before he had time to sit down, up came 
our minister, and with him another one, who 
welcomed us to Missionburg. 

“ ‘ Brother Atheling,’ said our minister, 
‘you are the very man we are looking for.’ 
And the last time I saw Philemon for that 


52 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


day he was being walked off between two 
preachers, looking for all the world like a 
poor lonely sparrow among blackbirds. 

u After quite a number of ns women were 
collected, we went home with the sister who 
had welcomed me j and it was a nice home- — 
everything complete and comfortable, and 
everybody so kind. And as I folded my 
shawl and laid my bonnet on it in the room 
I was to share with a sister from Nebraska, I 
wondered if Philemon was faring as well as 
I ; and though sure he was, I knew he would 
be lonesome ; and just as I had borrowed that 
trouble, and was entertaining it as well as if 
I enjoyed its company, the thought came to 
me, 1 Matilda Atheling, what a poor creature 
you are ! Philemon is in the Lord’s keeping 
in Missionburg as at home ; He brought him 
safely here, and will take care of him now 
that he is here.’ So I felt comforted, and 
went down to a nice supper and enjoyed it 5 
for we had taken an early dinner, that I 
might leave all in good order. 


AT THE MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 53 


“ The next day we all went to the church 
where the convention was to be held. It was 
full, and everybody was glad to see every 
other body j and there were addresses of wel- 
come and greeting, and reports read $ and we 
had lunch and music, and after that speeches ,* 
and I never enjoyed anything as much as I 
did that convention. I had not a care in the 
world, except now and then I wondered how 
Philemon was, and hoped he enjoyed Synod 
as well as I did the convention. 

u I didn’t see him the whole of that day, 
nor the next, until afternoon. Everything 
was going along as smooth as silk in our con- 
vention, and jnst as the president rose to say 
something, the door opened, and a whole lot 
of ministers and delegates and other brethren 
came in, and took seats wherever they could 
find them. I suppose there was some busi- 
ness before Synod which they considered dry, 
so they came around to see that we women 
weren’t getting into mischief. I was busy 
watching them and wondering where they 


54 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


could find places (for a woman missionary 
from foreign parts was to speak, and every- 
body had come to see the queer clothes she 
was to wear), when who should I see but 
Philemon, looking, I knew to a certainty, 
more for me than for a seat. 

“ I counted the people in the pew I was in, 
and then those in the one before me, and 
found the latter would hold one more. So I 
leaned forward, and touching a girl on the 
shoulder, I said : 

“ 1 Dear young sister, if you want to do as 
great a Christian kindness as you ever did in 
your life, move along and make room for a 
poor lonely creature near me.’ 

“She smiled and did as I told her, and I 
stood up and beckoned to Philemon ; and he 
came quicker than I ever saw him walk, and 
dropped into the seat as if he had found a 
little piece of home. 

“As soon as the commotion of getting the 
men settled was over, the president rose and 
said we would proceed to business. She had 


AT THE MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 55 


a letter in her hand, and remarked that be- 
fore she would introduce the speaker she 
would tell us some glad tidings ; and it was 
that the society had received the gift of 
fifteen hundred dollars, which had encou- 
raged her to ask the convention to increase it 
to two thousand, which could be used in the 
manner which seemed most pressing. 

“ Before she could take her seat, up jumped 
one of the ministers, and said he : 

“ ‘ I move that it be used in building a 
mission church in Indian Territory/ 

“ L I second the motion/ said the delegate 
from his church. 

“ Before he could sit down, another minis- 
ter was on his feet, saying that in his opinion 
the most pressing need was a bungalow which 
ought to be built at some tongue-twisting 
place way out in foreign parts, which I 
couldn’t pronounce if I knew, but which he 
had as pat as if he had been saying nothing 
else from his cradle. 

“ ‘ I second that motion,’ said his delegate. 


56 


WHAT 1 TOLD DORCAS. 


“ And such a confusion I never heard ; for 
so far as I knew, every man in the house had 
his own plan for using that money, either 
for Sunday-school libraries, repairing their 
churches, paying off the debt on them, or 
something else. 

“ The women sat quiet for a while, then the 
officers looked at one another and at the presi- 
dent, who in a calm, serene manner struck 
the bell, and said in a clear, decided tone : 

“ 1 The house will please come to order.’ 

“And it did come to order, quicker than 
I thought possible. The men dropped into 
their places and looked at one another, and 
settled their attention upon the meeting just 
as though the whole affair had been decided 
in their favor, and never said another word 
as long as they stayed. 

“The president introduced the speaker, 
and you might have heard a pin drop the 
whole time her speech lasted. Time and time 
again I saw Philemon putting his handker- 
chief to his eyes, and plenty of the women 


AT THE MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 57 


shed tears at hearing of the heartrending 
scenes she had witnessed in that heathen 
country where the poor creatures knew 
no better, and we taking good care they 
shouldn’t. She spoke of them as though she 
loved them as she did her own kin, and we 
could almost see them holding out their arms 
to meet us more than half-way. 

u When she sat down there was silence for 
a while ; then a lady dressed in deep mourn- 
ing arose, and said, 1 Sisters, I had a lovely 
daughter, eighteen years of age; since we 
last met I have lost her. When my husband 
heard I was coming to this convention, he put 
two hundred dollars in my hand, to be used 
in any way I thought best, as a memorial of 
her. It does not require a costly tombstone 
to keep us in remembrance of our darling. I 
wish to use this money in a way she and my 
husband would approve ; 1 give it in memory 
of her to the society.’ 

“ When she sat down no one spoke ; every- 
body seemed awed into silence. Then the 


58 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


president rose and thanked her in the name 
of the society ; and just as she took her seat, 
Philemon turned and whispered something to 
me, and I nodded a glad, happy nod, and he 
rose np just where he was, and said : 

“ 1 Sisters ! ’ 

u The people all turned to look at him, and 
my heart nearly stood still, for I was afraid 
he would forget what he intended to say, and 
they would smile. But no, he kept straight 
on; and if he had been Solomon in all his 
glory, the meeting could not have paid him 
more attention. 

11 1 Sisters ! ’ said he again, turning partly 
around to me, ‘ Matilda and I have but one 
child — a son. For nearly three years of his 
life, before he was twenty, we would have 
been rejoiced to know that he was safe in our 
Father’s house, above and beyond all tempta- 
tion ; for our boy was a drunkard. Time and 
time again he signed the pledge and broke 
over. He went in debt to the amount of 
three hundred dollars, and as he was a 


AT THE MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 59 


minor, they came on me for the money. 
Minor or no minor, they knew I would pay it 
if it took my last dollar. But before that 
came to pass the Lord took him in hand ; He 
converted our boy’s heart, and made of him 
a Christian. He has never taken a drop of 
liquor since, and we have faith that he never 
will. Two years ago he came to me, and said 
he, “ Father, that three hundred dollars you 
spent for me is in the bank ready for you. 
Do what you please with it ; all I ask is never 
to see it again.” Ever since then, Matilda 
and I have been considering what would be 
the best use to make of that money, seeing it 
is not enough to build anything with, and too 
much to give to any one who has no claim 
upon us. After hearing about the tombstone, 
I have thought we could not do better than 
give it to you ; and Matilda agrees with me, 
so the money is yours.’ 

u Philemon had taken his seat when a new 
thought came into his mind, and he rose to 
say more. 


60 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


u 1 Sisters/ said he, 1 our son was converted 
in a Methodist meeting, he married a Meth- 
odist girl, he leads in a Methodist class- 
meeting, and his 'child was baptized by a 
Methodist preacher. We would rather our 
boy had come into the church where he was 
received in baptism when a baby, but Matilda 
and I are too — ’ and here Philemon came to 
a dead stop. 

11 1 0 Philemon/ said I to myself, while cold 
creeps ran up and down the spine of my 
back, 1 why didn’t you let well enough alone, 
and stop when you had said your say? 
You’ll never get a word to fit in there, if you 
chase through the whole dictionary, and will 
have to sit down in shame and confusion of 
face. What did possess you to begin again, 
and drag me in to add to your burden ? ’ 

“ But just then his eyes lighted ; he broke 
into a smile, and straightened himself, and, 
like we children used to do at school when 
we wanted to jump over the trunk of a fallen 
tree, he ran back in his words, and said he : 


AT THE MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 61 


“ 1 Matilda and I would rather our son 
would be in the church with us; but we are 
not so hidebound that we cannot rejoice that 
he is walking in the strait and narrow path, 
no matter through what church that path 
leads him.’ 

“ Then Philemon sat down all in a tremble ; 
and I just leaned forward and put my two 
arms about his neck and gave him one of the 
gratefulest kisses I ever gave in my whole life. 

“ There wasn’t a word said in the conven- 
tion for about a minute; then the president 
said, ‘Let us pray,’ and we all knelt down; 
for not one of ns felt like standing up or 
sitting still, or any other way most accom- 
modating to ourselves; but we knelt , as the 
Lord commanded us, while she prayed. And 
such a prayer I never heard from mortal lips, 
her voice trembling as though tears were not 
far away. There was no need for the conven- 
tion to thank Philemon — she did it for them 
in her prayer. 

“After the session was over she came up 


62 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


and shook hands with Philemon and me ; and 
plenty of the best-dressed women in the 
house shook hands with him, thanked him 
for his good, brave words, and said they were 
proud to know him. 

“ This was the last day of the convention, 
for it was to be but two days, while Synod 
was to be three ; and after the women began 
to leave, I told Philemon it was the last day, 
but there would be a meeting in the evening. 

u Then said he : 

u 1 If you go home I might as well go too.’ 

u So it was agreed upon that we should meet 
at the depot the next morning, and decide 
what was better to do 5 and then Philemon 
went his way, and I went mine. 

“ That evening at the tea-table I happened 
to be seated next to a young minister,- and 
after the blessing was asked he turned to me, 
and said he : 

“ 1 That was a very interesting meeting this 
afternoon. I had no idea the ladies had so 
much executive and parliamentary ability.’ 


AT THE MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 63 


“ ‘ Yes/ said I, ‘ women can manage very 
well if not meddled with/ Then, looking 
more intently at him, I noticed it was the 
zealous creature who had been the first to say 
where the money should be used 5 so I said, 
‘Oh well, men are not to blame ; they have 
been educated that way. It may perhaps 
take the whole of this generation before they 
will have a realizing sense that women have 
a need of money, and the whole of the next 
before they will believe that women know how 
to use it/ 

“I saw he wasn’t convinced, but I had 
done my Christian duty, and so changed the 
subject. 

“ I went to the depot early the next morn- 
ing, and found Philemon waiting and watch- 
ing for me. 

“ ‘ Matilda/ said he, eagerly, ‘ we will go 
home; several of the ministers are going, 
and there is no need of a delegate — and a 
second-hand one at that — staying if he wants 
to go home/ 


64 


WHAT 1 TOLD DORCAS. 


“So we came; and as much as Philemon 
enjoyed the trip to Missionburg, I could see 
that he enjoyed the one coming home better. 
We found the house as we left it; and while 
Philemon went over the place to see that all 
was right, I prepared one of our comfortable 
little dinners, and we enjoyed it and were 
grateful. 

“I never realized until supper was over, 
and I had taken up my knitting, that Phil- 
emon had, after all, been to a woman’s con- 
vention, and the Lord had taken care of the 
matter in His own way. 

“Just see how well Tony sleeps ! Do you 
take a nap, Dorcas; I know you are tired 
from teaching all day, and there is no need of 
both of us watching.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

MRS. ATHELING’S CONTRIBUTING MEMBER. 

u Good-evening, Dorcas ; it was real sweet 
and kind in yon to come over this evening 
and be company for me while Philemon is at 
the committee meeting. Draw np his chair 
to the hearth and make yourself comfortable. 

“I have been wishing for a chance to tell 
you of a new contributing member I got for 
our missionary society, and this is the very 
time. 

“ You see, the president remarked, at one of 
our meetings, that there were plenty of peo- 
ple in the congregation whom it did not suit 
to attend the meetings, but who would, she 
thought, be willing to give a monthly contri- 
bution; so a committee was chosen to ask 
65 


66 


WHAT 1 TOLD DORCAS. 


them. There is never any trouble in getting 
committees for visiting; eight of ns were 
more than willing to go, and we had slips of 
paper with our visiting-places upon them. 

“Well, on my way home I passed Joel 
Hollingsworth’s ; and seeing his daughter-in- 
law, Ethel, sitting in the porch with her em- 
broidery, I stopped to chat awhile with her, 
told her where I had been, and showed her 
my list of places to visit for contributions. 

“ The Hollingsworths, you know, are Qua- 
kers, and rich ; and there are only three in the 
beautiful home — Joel, his son Frank, and 
Ethel, to whom Frank was married in June, 
the week after Philemon and I got home from 
the convention at Missionburg. 

“ I have known Ethel from a baby — for she 
lived with her uncle, James Barnard, whose 
farm adjoined ours — and I know her to be 
good and lovely in disposition, and one of the 
prettiest creatures, with a pure, sweet face, 
like pictures of the Madonna. 

“Frank and our son David were great 



I STOPPED TO CHAT AWHILE WITH HER. (Page 66.) 





THE CONTRIBUTING MEMBER. 


67 


friends, and he told David about his being 
engaged to Ethel $ but his father refused con- 
sent, and Ethel would not marry him without 
it, nor go to live where she was not wanted. 

“Joel's wife died several years ago, and if 
Frank could have married Ethel and brought 
her there, he and Joel would have been 
spared many lonely hours — no one in the 
great house with them except the people in 
the kitchen. 

“ But Joel Hollingsworth was always known 
as one of the most stilf -necked creatures in ex- 
istence ) and just because he had some contrary 
dealings with James Barnard about a line- 
fence, he wouldn't let Frank marry Ethel. 

“ The whole neighborhood believed that he 
would never give in 5 and you may know how 
surprised we were when we heard that Frank 
and Ethel had passed meeting, and would be 
married as soon as the rules of the Society 
allowed it after they passed. 

“You see, my family on my father’s side 
were Quakers, or, what is more polite to say, 


68 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS . 


Friends ; and I was brought up as one, used 
the plain language, and knew all about their 
discipline and belief, and have the warmest 
kind of feelings for them. They are as 
purely Christian people as ever lived; and 
there is no sect so little understood outside of 
their own denomination, and for that reason 
they are found fault with by people who will 
not go to the trouble to find out what their 
doctrine really is. I always attended Friends’ 
meeting until I married, but wasn’t a mem- 
ber, because my father married out of the 
Society, and mother did not wish to leave 
her own church to be taken into it. Father 
wouldn’t acknowledge to the committee ap- 
pointed to wait upon him that he was sorry 
for going outside the Society to find a wife, 
so was disowned, and we children lost our 
birthright. 

“However, that didn’t make much differ- 
ence with me, for I would have married Phile- 
mon anyway, and been disowned for it; so 
father saved them the trouble. 


THE CONTRIBUTING MEMBER. 


69 


“Well, as I was saying, Ethel looked as 
sweet as a rose that beautiful evening sitting 
in the wide, cool porch, the yard around it 
filled with every fragrant flower you could 
think of ; and I did wonder to myself what 
good angel had brought the obstinate will of 
Joel Hollingsworth to its senses, and allowed 
him and Frank the great blessing of having 
this lovely young creature preside over their 
home. 

“She was dressed in white, a bunch of 
rosebuds was on her breast, and a bud in her 
beautiful brown hair. 

“When I opened the gate and went in, the 
loveliest tinge of color came to her face be- 
cause of her pleasure at seeing me ; then she 
gave me a rocking-chair, a fan, and a glass of 
water, and gently urged me to take off my 
bonnet and take tea with them. 

“ But I said no, for Philemon would be ex- 
pecting me ; but I would come again and stay 
longer. So we chatted away as cheery as 
wrens ; and I had told her all about our mis- 


70 


WHAT I TOLD DOHCAS. 


sionary meeting and then was walking down 
the path on my way home, when Ethel, who 
was going with me to the gate, said I must 
have a bunch of roses, and was soon snip- 
ping right and left with her embroidery 
scissors. 

“ As I watched her flitting about I thought 
how blessedly thankful Frank must be to see 
that bright being there where hired help had 
ruled, and wondered for the dozenth time 
what had won over haughty old Joel. 

“ But Ethel could always read people’s 
thoughts before they could get them straight- 
ened out in their own minds; and when we 
came to the gate and she gave the great 
bunch of fragrant roses into my hand, she 
said, in her gentle voice : 

“ 1 What disturbs thee, Friend Matilda ? 
Thee appears to have something on thy mind.’ 

“ 1 Yes, Ethel,’ said I ; 1 and not only on my 
mind, but on the mind of the whole neighbor- 
hood. We cannot imagine what changed Joel 
Hollingsworth’s feelings sufficiently to allow 


THE CONTRIBUTING MEMBER. 


71 


Frank to bring you here, when that line-fence 
between him and your uncle Barnard stands 
just where it did.’ 

“‘Now,’ said she, smiling and blushing, 
‘what would thee think if I should tell thee 
that Selim was the peacemaker, and it is to 
him we owe our present happiness ? ’ 

“ ‘ To Selim ! ’ said I, in astonishment ; 
‘you don’t certainly mean Frank’s beautiful 
Arabian horse ? ’ 

“ ‘ Yes, I mean the Arabian, Selim j would 
thee like to hear the story ? ’ 

“ ‘ I should say I would,’ said I, emphati- 
cally j ‘ and Philemon or no Philemon waiting 
for me, I must stop to hear it.’ 

“ So we went back to the porch, and Ethel 
talked and I listened. 

“‘Thee knows, Friend Matilda,’ said she, 
1 that early last spring I applied for the posi- 
tion of teacher of the district school ; so I will 
commence from that date, and tell thee how 
Selim shortened our probation. 

“ ‘ Thee was a near neighbor, and knows 


72 WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 

that I was as a daughter in Uncle Barnard’s 
house ; but I had nothing to employ my time, 
and wishing to make use of the good educa- 
tion which he had given me was my reason 
for desiring the position. 

u 1 Uncle was one of the trustees of the 
school; and the afternoon they met in the 
village to select a teacher from the many ap- 
plicants, I stood by the window of the farm- 
house which commanded a view of the road 
by which he must come, watching for him. 

“ ‘ At length he appeared, and before the 
carriage halted at the gate, I flew out to ask 
the question of such interest to me. 

“ 1 u Did they give me the position, uncle ? ” 
said I, eagerly. 

““‘No, Ethel, I am sorry to tell thee that 
it was given to a widow woman who once 
lived in the neighborhood, and who is depen- 
dent upon her own exertions for support. I 
cannot but acknowledge that they were just 
when they agreed that thee was well placed 
and did not need to work for thy living. I 


THE CONTRIBUTING MEMBER. 


73 


am sorry for tliy disappointment, but rejoice 
for thy aunt Barnard’s sake and my own.” . 

“ ‘ u But, uncle, it was no affair of theirs 
that thee was so kind as to give me a good 
home ; what I long for is employment,” said 
I, half weeping. 

“ 1 “ I did all I could for thy cause, Ethel,” 
replied uncle ; “I mentioned that thee was a 
graduate of one of our best colleges, and 
loved to impart thy knowledge to children. 
But it was of no avail ; for I could have told 
thee before leaving home that, as Joel Hol- 
lingsworth is one of the trustees, there would 
be no chance for thee. He is one that never 
forgives nor forgets, and that line-fence be- 
tween his pasture-land and mine has made 
him my enemy. I had the land surveyed, and 
know I am right, so cannot in conscience re- 
move the fence at his bidding; therefore T 
suppose that he will remain my enemy as 
long as we both live.” 

“ 1 “ But, uncle,” said I, “ there is another 
trustee ; did he also go against me ? ” 


74 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


u 1 u He did, because he was influenced by 
Joel, who is his brother-in-law ; and he wishes 
to stay in favor with Joel, who, ,thee knows, 
has great possessions.” 

“‘I was so disappointed, Friend Matilda, 
that I could scarcely keep back my tears ; but 
making an effort to steady my voice, I told 
uncle that aunt was sent for to take tea at 
Friend Pyle’s, and they expected him also. 

11 1 u I am sorry I could bring thee no better 
news, Ethel, but no doubt it is all for the 
best,” said uncle, kindly, as he bade me fare- 
well, and turned Dobbin’s head toward the 
road again ; and I went back to the house. 

11 c I knew, Friend Matilda, that Uncle Bar- 
nard sympathized with me; but kind and 
sagacious as he is, he did not fathom the 
cause and depth of my disappointment. The 
opposition of Friend Hollingsworth was far 
deeper than he suspected. 

“ 1 Uncle knew that Frank was a regular 
visitor at our house, and that his beautiful 
black Arabian, Selim, was as much at home 


THE CONTRIBUTING MEMBER . 75 

in our stable as in that of Joel Hollings- 
worth. But he did not know that Frank had 
pleaded with his father to consent to his 
marriage with me, and had been coldly and 
bitterly repulsed. 

“ 1 But I knew it all ; and sadly calling to 
mind the unrelenting nature of Friend Hol- 
lingsworth, I resolved never to be the one to 
separate Frank from his home and his father, 
which he had besought me to do. 

“ 1 So, as I sat by the window in the twilight 
thinking over all these things, I could control 
my feelings no longer, and tears fell like 
summer rain upon my clasped hands. Be- 
sides, it was really a luxury to weep, with no 
one to witness it except the great house-dog, 
who gazed upon me with tender compassion 
in his intelligent eyes. 

“ 1 The light of the full moon was flooding 
the place, when my reverie was disturbed by 
the trampling of a horse’s hoofs and the 
mingled threats and entreaties of a subdued 


voice. 


76 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


u c u whoa there, Selim ! Thou unruly 
beast, what possesses thee ? Come now, 
Selim ! Come now, good beast ! Whoa, 
Selim ! Whoa now ! Whoa ! ” 

“ 1 1 sprang to the window, looked out, and 
seeing at one glance how matters stood, tears 
of mirth took the place of those occasioned by 
disappointment. Friend Hollingsworth had 
driven Selim to the trustees’ meeting, and in 
going home past Uncle Barnard’s, the horse 
had of his own sweet will turned into the 
familiar lane, and having reached his ac- 
customed post, saw no reason at that time in 
the evening for moving on. 

u L Though as gentle as a lamb, Selim was, 
for the time, showing a determination equal 
to that of Friend Hollingsworth, who, pale 
with exasperation and chagrin, finding en- 
treaties of no avail, reached for the whip and 
gave the animal a sudden stinging cut with 
it, upon which Selim stood straight up and 
pawed the air with his fore feet. 

“ 1 Thoroughly frightened, Friend Hollings- 


THE CONTRIBUTING MEMBER. 


77 


worth attempted to spring from the carriage ; 
but catching his foot in the rein, he fell 
heavily to the ground, while I left the win- 
dow and flew to his help. 

“ ‘ At the sound of my voice, Selim turned 
his beautiful eyes upon me, neighed softly, 
and stood still. Patting him gently, I slipped 
the strap in the ring in the post, tied him 
securely, and then went to my fallen foe. 

“ 1 “ 1 hope thee is not hurt,” said I, feeling 
truly sorry for him ; “ will thee let me assist 
thee to thy feet ? ” 

“ I do not believe I can stand,” replied 
he, in a trembling voice ; “I jumped out — for 
I feared the beast would fall back on me — and 
I think my ankle is broken.” 

“‘And really, Friend Matilda, seeing his 
pallor and the position in which he was lying, 
I feared he was correct. 

“ ‘ “ Oh, I hope not,” said I ; “ just lie still 
a moment until I get a cane for thee to lean 
upon, and I will help thee into the house.” 

“‘I ran in and arranged the lounge in 


78 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


readiness for him ; then returned, helped him 
to rise, and, giving him the cane, bade him 
lean upon my shoulder ; and by slow degrees 
we reached the house, and he sank, almost 
fainting, upon the lounge. 

“ ‘ With the aid of restoratives he soon re- 
vived ; and, lighting a lamp, I set about exam- 
ining the wounded ankle. 

“ (<< I have taken a full course in anatomy,” 
said I, “ and can soon tell thee if any bones 
are broken.” 

“‘He made no reply, and I gently and 
speedily made a thorough examination, finding 
no fracture nor dislocation — nothing more 
than a bad sprain ; and the moment he was 
assured of this the color came back to his 
face, and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

u i u There is nothing better for a sprain,” 
said I, “ than an application of moist earth ; 
excuse me a moment, and I will prepare it.” 

“‘Friend HoUingsworth made no objec- 
tion, so I left the room and in a few moments 
returned with the clay and bandages; and, 


THE CONTRIBUTING MEMBER. 


79 


when applied, he acknowledged that it gave 
instant relief. 

“ i u Blessings npon thee ! ” said he, hum- 
bly ; u thou art a girl in a thousand.” 

ulu Uncle and Aunt Barnard were invited 
to take tea at Neighbor Pyle’s,” said I, 
quickly, to conceal my pleasure at his sincere 
praise, u and I was about to make a cup of 
tea for myself when I heard thy voice at 
the gate. I will prepare it, and will enjoy it 
much more now that I have thy company to 
share it.” 

11 111 Must thee prepare it ? Hast thou no 
help ? ” 

u i “Norah is away this week upon her 
yearly visit, and will not be at home until 
late this evening. Our man has gone to the 
station to meet the train that brings her,” 
said I. 

“ 1 Frank had dropped hints of his father’s 
tastes in the culinary line, and I am glad to 
remember that I prepared a supper which 
suited him perfectly. And since I became 


80 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


his daughter-in-law he has told me how he 
watched me as I flitted about, and mentally 
berated his own short-sightedness and ob- 
stinacy. 

“ 1 When supper ^as ready I drew the 
center-table in front of the lounge, placed a 
footstool under it for the wounded ankle, and 
Friend Hollingsworth arose to take his tea. 
Cheerful chat accompanied the meal, and he 
did fair justice to the viands, and said he 
could not remember when he had so enjoyed 
a meal. 

“ ‘ It was scarcely finished when I heard 
the roll of wheels • and, making an excuse for 
leaving the room, I hurried out to meet uncle 
and aunt, that they might not be taken by 
surprise at sight of their unexpected guest. 

“ ‘ They came in as placidly as if seeing 
Friend Hollingsworth reclining upon their 
lounge was of frequent occurrence, welcomed 
him warmly, and inquired anxiously what 
was the cause of the accident. 

“ 1 u I never drove Selim until this after- 


THE CONTRIBUTING MEMBER. 


81 


noon,” said Friend Hollingsworth, “but al- 
ways knew the beast to be gentle and trac- 
table; therefore was totally unprepared for 
his bolting up thy lane, and refusing to move 
from thy post.” 

“ 1 Uncle Barnard strove to maintain a 
grave countenance, as became his age and 
sect and the circumstances, but it was of no 
use ; in spite of his endeavors, he burst into 
a hearty peal of laughter, in which he was 
joined by aunt and me, and finally by Friend 
Hollingsworth. 

ui «A n( i now,” said our guest, wiping tears 
of mirth from his eyes, “if thee will add to 
the kindness which I have received under this 
roof by taking me home in thy carriage with 
old Dobbin, I will send Frank for Selim ; for 
I have had enough of him for one day.” 

“ 1 Uncle agreed gladly, tenderly assisted 
his vanquished foe to a place in the carriage, 
and they drove slowly and peacefully away. 

u i u qipg inner light will not let me say 
that the line-fence is in the right place,” said 


82 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


Friend Hollingsworth, as they reached his 
own gate, “ but it prompts me to forgive, and 
to ask forgiveness. I am sorry for my enmity 
against thee and thine ; let us be friends.” 

“ ‘ “ I have never been aught but a friend 
to thee, Joel,” said Uncle Barnard, pressing 
the hand of his neighbor; “but I rejoice that 
we will henceforth live as becometh our 
peaceable profession.” 

“ ‘ Thus thee sees, Friend Matilda, it was all 
for the best that I did not get the district 
school, for Frank would have insisted upon 
my resignation. 

“ ‘ Father Hollingsworth gave free and 
cordial assent to our union, welcomed me 
to his home, and no father could be kinder to 
me ; and I strive to be a faithful daughter to 
him. Thee may be sure we value Selim for 
his share in the affair, for he performed the 
duty worthy of all commendation — that of 
peacemaker/ 

“‘Well, Ethel/ said I, as I again tied my 
bonnet-strings, ‘I am real glad you told me 


THE CONTRIBUTING MEMBER. 


83 


this, and gladder that yon are mistress of this 
beautiful home • and it is no wonder that Joel 
Hollingsworth was sorry for his stiff-necked- 
ness, for I know that you and Frank make 
him happy and comfortable. And now I 
must be thinking of my home and Philemon.’ 
And I took up my roses. 

“ 1 Thee was speaking of contributing mem- 
bers of thy missionary society, and of thy list 
not being as full as that of thy friends ; does 
thee object to having one of another denomi- 
nation upon thy list? If not, thee can put 
my name down as a contributing member, 
and I will give now my contribution for this 
month.’ 

“ f Indeed, Ethel, we would be glad as could 
be to have you,’ said I, flushing with joy as 
she put a greenback into my hand. 1 1 never 
expected it of you, and that makes it all the 
more a joyful surprise.’ 

“Well, Dorcas, I went home feeling that 
there was one substantial contributing mem- 
ber upon the list, if we never get another. I 


84 


WHAT 1 TOLD DORCAS. 


knew that the Barnards and Ethel gave liber- 
ally when asked for a contribution for our 
Sunday-school library, and knew also that, 
as a class, the Quakers are first-rate workers 
in the mission cause, particularly among the 
Indians ; but I wasn’t sure that they would 
put their names on the list as contributing 
members of other denominations. 

“ When I got home I told Philemon, and he 
said: 

u 1 Well, Quaker or no Quaker, that woman 
is a Christian.’ ” 


CHAPTER Y. 

THE ATHELINGS AFTER THE MISSIONARY 
CONVENTION. 

“ I have brought my knitting, and will sit 
with you, Dorcas, until Philemon calls for 
me on his way back from a political meeting 
at Dorton. 

“I am a little late, for I went on to the 
village with him and called to see Mrs. 
Hackett ; I haven’t been there since the night 
we watched with Tony, when I told you 
of our trip to the missionary convention at 
Missionburg. 

“It does not seem possible that so much 
time has elapsed since we were there; but 
when folks live day by day as do Philemon 
and I, life is so full of interest that time flies 
too fast for all we plan to do. 

85 


86 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“I see you look surprised 5 but there are 
two ways of living day by day, and I will tell 
you how we came to make the resolution. 

“ Well, one evening we were sitting by our 
hearth, Philemon reading and I knitting, 
when I noticed that he had put down his 
paper and was gazing into the fire in deep 
thought. 

“ After a while he said, ‘ Matilda/ 

“Said I, ‘Well?’ 

“ ‘ Those were true and stirring words that 
I read in a book while we were at Mission- 
burg — you at the convention and I at 
Synod; somehow I cannot get them out of 
my mind.’ 

“ ‘ What was the book, Philemon,’ said I, 
‘ and where did you see it ? ’ 

“ ‘ It was on the table in the room I slept 
in, and was called “Silent Times”; and the 
other delegate who slept in the room with me 
said it was written by a Presbyterian minis- 
ter. The time has been when I would have 
been too narrow-minded to praise anything 


AFTER THE CONVENTION. 


87 


said or done outside our own church, or to 
believe a preacher outside our denomination 
could write anything- it would do me good to 
follow. 

“ ‘ But, Matilda, it was certainly the word 
in season that we read about, and I could 
have shed tears over the thought that God so 
loved me that He thought fit to point out my 
weakness and want of charity. I missed you 
so much, Matilda, and was so lonesome and 
miserable, that I suppose it helped the words 
to take such a deep hold upon me; but be 
that as it will, when I reach the other shore I 
hope to clasp hands with that dear Presby- 
terian brother, and thank him for his helpful 
words/ 

11 ‘ What were the words, Philemon ? 7 said 
I, softly, my eyes full of tears. 

u t There were many things which I had 
often thought, but never could have fixed up 
as he did ; but the main thing was what he 
said abont living day by day/ 

u L Day by day, Philemon ? 7 said I, in sur- 


88 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS . 


prise. ‘ How can we live any other way ? — and 
I guess most of ns are glad to get the chance. 7 

tli Yes, hut it gives a plan to live right. 
Read it aloud, Matilda/ said lie, taking a slip of 
paper from his old pocket-book 5 L I copied it. 7 
11 So I laid my knitting down and read : 

“ ‘ It ought not to be hard to live well one 
day. Any one should be able to remember 
God and keep his heart open toward heaven, 
and to remember others who are in need and 
suffering about him, and keep his hand 
stretched out in helpfulness, for just one 
day. Yet that is all there is to do. We 
never have more than one day to live. We 
have no to-morrows. God never gives us 
years, nor even weeks 5 He gives us only 
days. If we live each day well, all our life 
will, in the end, be radiant and beautiful. 7 

“ 1 They are true and stirring words, Phile- 
mon, 7 said I, as I gave the paper back to him 
and resumed my knitting — 1 as true and stir- 
ring words as I ever heard. But what time 
had you for reading in Missionburg ? 7 


AFTER THE CONVENTION. 


89 


“‘It was while we waited for supper the 
evening of that meeting of the Woman’s Con- 
vention where I had given the three hundred 
dollars. Everybody had praised and thanked 
me at the meeting for what I had said and 
done, and I was in fine spirits and a good 
deal puffed up that I had done so well. But 
as soon as I was back in the room where I 
slept, a great wave of discouragement rolled 
over me, and I could have shed tears over my 
conceit and narrow-minded notion that I had 
done something great. 

“ 1 “ Philemon Atheling,” said I to myself, 
“you think you have done a great thing to 
give three hundred dollars to missions. Well, 
what if you have? What use is three hun- 
dred dollars to convert millions of heathen? 
It won’t be a drop in the bucket j and it is all 
you have to give, and no prospect of being 
able to spare any more. What is the sense of 
you rejoicing over your paltry help?” 

“ 1 Matilda, I was so ashamed and disheart- 
ened that I felt I could never look at the 


90 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


people again, and longed for you to come and 
say you wanted to go home. Just then my 
eyes lighted upon u Silent Times ” lying upon 
the table, and I picked it up, and it opened of 
itself at the very page which had the words I 
copied out. It was one of my silent times 
and lonesome times and desponding times, 
and the very name of the book seemed sooth- 
ing; and when I read the words, my heart 
gave a throb of joy, and I said to myself : 

ui “Philemon Atheling, you have done all 
you could for just one day; don’t try to take 
the planning out of God’s hands, but trust 
Him to show you what to do next.” 

u 1 With those words in my mind, Matilda, 
I have tried day by day to do something for 
the poor heathen. Some days I have laid by 
a little money that I could spare ; some days 
I got the chance to speak a word for them to 
somebody that had the means to help if they 
could only be persuaded to have the will; 
and sometimes I could do nothing except 
offer a prayer for them ; and the days I could 


AFTER THE CONVENTION. 


91 


do only that seem more frequent than the 
others.’ 

“‘Well, Philemon/ said I, ‘the greatest 
comfort is that God does not ask ns to do 
what we can’t do • and most likely the very 
days that yon could do nothing but offer a 
prayer for the poor benighted creatures were 
the days when God made the best use of you. 
You have done something this day by giving 
me those lines to read. Day by day we will 
live right, Philemon, and we won’t fret be- 
cause we can’t see the results of what we have 
been able to do, but let God attend to that.’ 

“ ‘ Yes/ said Philemon, brightening up • ‘ all 
we have to do is to keep a sharp lookout, and 
not let a day slip by without showing some 
good deed, however small.’ 

“ A few evenings after this, as Philemon and 
I were sitting by the Are, a thought came to 
me as clearly as if somebody had spoken it in 
my hearing. 

“ ‘ Philemon/ said I. 

“ ‘ Well?’ said he. 


92 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“‘You haven’t heard from your sister 
Tabitha, who lives way out in Minnesota, for 
a long time. You know her husband died 
and left her very rich. She has no children 
to give her property to, and I believe if it 
were put into her mind to help the heathen, 
she would out of her great abundance give 
liberally ; suppose you ask her ? ’ 

“ 1 The very thing to do ! ’ said Philemon, as 
eager as I ever saw him. 1 She ought to give 
according as God has prospered her; let us 
write to her this very evening.’ 

“ So I got the pen, ink, and paper, and we 
wrote as long and affecting a letter as we ever 
wrote in our lives. We told her all we knew 
about the poor creatures in heathen lands, and 
asked her, in the name of the dear Saviour 
who died for us all, to help them, as He had 
commanded us to do. Philemon went so far 
as to say that he had given three hundred 
dollars, although we were afraid it sounded 
like boasting. However, we had to tell of the 
convention at Missionburg, and the three 


AFTER TEE CONVENTION. 


93 


hundred seemed to fit in, so we let it stay; 
and when the letter was done, folded, put in 
the envelope, sealed, and the stamp put on it, 
all ready to send to the village in the morn- 
ing, Philemon rubbed his hands in glee. 

“ 1 Matilda/ said he, 1 we certainly have 
done our work for this one day, and done it 
well . 7 

“ 4 Yes/ said I, 1 and to-morrow the letter 
will start on its mission; and if we can do 
nothing else, we can pray that it may be seed 
sown in good ground . 7 

“ 1 Yes/ said he ; ‘ I would not wonder if 
Tabitha sends a check for a good sum . 7 

“ Well, bright and early the next morning, 
Philemon took the letter to the post-office; 
and we went about all day with a smile in 
our hearts, for we hoped that Tabitha would 
do her share, and we knew that would be a 
liberal one. But we waited and waited ; and 
of evenings when Philemon came from the 
village, I asked if he had a letter from Sister 
Tabitha, and he would shake his head and 


94 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


say, ‘Not yet, but it will come/ Then I 
stopped asking, but would look at his hand or 
his pocket when he came in. Then I stopped 
even that, for I didn’t want him to notice it ; 
and we said no more about Sister Tabitha and 
her money for the heathen. 

“At length, one evening, Sam Burnside 
rapped at the door, and left us a letter on his 
way from the village to sit up with a sick 
neighbor. It was from Sister Tabitha, and I 
don’t think I was ever quicker in lighting the 
lamp and getting out my knitting and sitting 
down to hear Philemon read it $ and I never 
saw him so slow and particular as he was — 
just like a child that wanted to feast its eyes 
upon some dainty before eating it. He took 
out his spectacles and put the case carefully 
back in its place. Then he took a piece of old 
kid glove from his vest-pocket and polished 
them until I began to think that he had en- 
gaged himself to polish by the hour and was 
bound to do his duty faithfully. Then he 
took up the letter and looked scanningly at 


AFTER THE CONVENTION. 


95 


tlie postmark, then at the writing, then at the 
seal, with the three letters twisted together on 
it, then at the stamp to see, it appeared, if the 
people way out in Minnesota used the same 
kind that we did. Then he smelled it, and 
said it reminded him of the fragrance of the 
little blue violets which Tabitha gathered with 
him down in the rich, moist woods, when they 
were children. Then he held it up between 
himself and the light to see whether it had a 
check or greenbacks inside ; and after I got 
so fidgety that I was dropping stitches in 
my knitting, Philemon concluded to open his 
letter, thinking maybe it was as good a way 
as any to find out what was in it. 

“Well, he read it first to himself, and I 
noticed that his face was getting longer and 
longer; but he kept on reading and said 
nothing. At last I began to drop stitches 
again, and said I, 1 Philemon/ 

“‘Well ? 7 said he, but kept on reading. 

“After a while he came to the end, and 
then he began again and read it aloud to me ; 


96 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


and I laid down my knitting and listened 
more intently than I ever did to the reading 
of a letter in my whole life. 

“ Sister Tabitha commenced her letter ‘ Dear 
Brother Philemon/ and ended it 1 Your affec- 
tionate sister but what lay between those 
two promontories was mighty swampy land, 
and, I mistrusted, not worth trying to culti- 
vate. There was neither check nor green- 
backs, but a vast deal of stuff about the 
society life she was leading, and its demands 
upon her ; and the great amount of money it 
took to entertain handsomely, as one in her 
position was expected to do; and the rich 
jewels and wardrobe she was compelled to 
have to maintain her position. She had just 
returned from Saratoga, where she passed her 
summers, and she told Philemon if he only 
knew what it cost her to keep her carriage 
and horses, her coachman and footman and 
maid at the Springs, he would never think of 
asking her to give money to people she knew 
nothing of, and who had no use for money, 


AFTER THE CONVENTION . 


97 


like those uncivilized creatures, the heathen. 
She said she never imagined that a person 
having the solid sense that Philemon used to 
have would have thrown away three hundred 
dollars as he had done; and if he found 
himself in the poorhouse through his silly 
squandering of his hard-earned money on the 
heathen, he need not look to her to help him 
out, for she would not let him have a dollar. 

“I never saw a person so cut up in my 
whole life as Philemon was by that letter. 
He sat still and looked dreamily into the fire, 
and I knit away and said nothing. 

“ 1 Matilda/ said he, after a time. 

“ ‘ Well ? 7 said I. 

“ 1 Riches must have changed her, Matilda ; 
yes, changed her past knowing. She is not 
the same person she was when she was 
Tabitha Atheling, and we played about this 
old farm-house. There were no children but 
us two, and we shared everything with each 
other; and there wasn’t a stingy bone in 
Tabitha’s body. She was one of the most 


98 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


affectionate creatures in the world, and too 
kind-hearted to hurt anybody’s feelings ; and 
now to think I should live to see the day that 
she could say such words to me ! I can’t 
understand it, Matilda ; I really cannot under- 
stand it.’ 

“‘We can pray for her, Philemon, that her 
eyes may be opened,’ said I ; 1 that will be our 
work for this one day.’ 

“ 1 And for every day until the prayer is 
answered,’ said Philemon ; and his eyes were 
full of tears. 

“ And so time passed on ; and one evening, 
as we were, as usual, sitting by the fire, 
Philemon reading, he laid down his paper 
and seemed in deep thought; and I knit 
away and said nothing. 

“ At length said he, ‘ Matilda.’ 

“Said I, ‘Well?’ 

“‘I have been thinking all day of some 
words in Sister Tabitha’s letter; somehow I 
cannot get them out of my head.’ 

“ ‘ What were the words, Philemon ? ’ said I. 


AFTER THE CONVENTION. 


99 


11 1 She said she had more uses for her money 
than to throw it away upon people she knew 
nothing about, like the heathen. Now, Ma- 
tilda, those words call to mind what I heard 
once of a man who was in a dark cell in 
prison, where he was almost forgotten, and 
nobody made an effort to get him out; and 
he knew nothing of the doings of the outside 
world, but just lived on in his dull, helpless 
way. At last a stranger came to visit the 
prison ; he noticed the man, became in- 
terested in him, inquired into the affair, and 
found there was no reason why he should not 
be set at liberty to be of some use in the 
world. He told him so, and pointed out the 
way to get his liberty, and said he would help 
him. The prisoner got hopeful, knowing 
that there was at least one man in the world 
that wanted to help him live a useful life, and 
was praying for him ; and so he grew en- 
couraged, and at last he was free. Now, 
Matilda, that is just Sister Tabitha’s case. 
She is in the prison of ignorance about the 


100 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


heathen; yes, in prison, Matilda, chained 
hand and foot by her money, her diamonds, 
her fine clothes, her Saratoga and society, her 
carriage and horses; and it is our bonnden 
duty to set her free, that she may be of some 
use in the world. So, Matilda, I want to try 
to forget all her harsh words to me. I want 
to write and tell her all these things ; I want 
to write this very evening. 

“ 1 didn’t say anything just then ; we were 
both considering what was best for him to 
write. 

“ At last I said, ‘ Philemon.’ 

“Said he, ‘ Well?’ 

“ 1 You have done enough for this one day 
to think of writing to her. But if you want 
to set her free, you must tell her more than 
yon can put in a letter. Don’t write until to- 
morrow evening, and I will see our president 
to-morrow and ask her for such reading as 
we ought to send to show her the way out of 
prison.’ 

“Philemon agreed with me; and I don’t 


AFTER TEE CONVENTION. 


101 


think I ever passed a happier time than I did 
the next day while collecting. I got a lot of 
Missionary Journals and other papers with 
inspiriting things about mission work; and 
for tracts I had ‘Mrs. Pickett’s Missionary 
Box/ 1 A Grain of Mustard-seed/ ‘ My Mission- 
ary Box and 1/ and several others, topping out 
with 1 Thanksgiving Ann.’ 

u 1 They are all good and freeing, Philemon,’ 
said I, when he cast his eyes on what I had 
gathered ; 1 and “ Thanksgiving Ann ” will do 
her share toward bringing Sister Tabitha out 
of prison.’ 

“ Well, we put them up in a neat package, 
wrote the letter, and sent all to the post-office 
that evening ; that was our work for that day, 
and we waited to hear what would come of it. 

“We waited and waited; and some people 
might have thought nothing would come of 
it ; but Philemon and I felt quite sure Tabitha 
would write, if only to censure us for bother- 
ing her again. When we had almost begun 
to think we had offended her past forgiveness, 


102 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


tlie letter came; and Philemon’s first words 
when he finished reading it were : 

“ 1 He maketh the wrath of man to praise 
Him.’ 

11 1 What is it, Philemon ? ’ said I. 

“And then he read it aloud; and happy 
tears dimmed my eyes when I heard it. 

“ Sister Tabitha wrote that she was so sorry 
and ashamed that she ever wrote those cruel 
words to Philemon, her only brother, and the 
only near relative she had in the world. She 
said it was her deep sorrow for that which 
made her turn her thoughts to the subject 
so interesting to Philemon. But she knew 
no more about missions than did the poor 
heathen creatures that we were working for, 
and she was about to write and tell Philemon 
this, and to ask his pardon for her wicked 
words, which had cost her sleepless nights, 
when his letter and the papers and the 
blessed tracts came, and she thought she 
would wait until she had something to write 
about that would prove that she was trying 


AFTER THE CONVENTION. 


103 


to help. So she had gone to see her pastor 
and his wife, and together they planned ways 
to use the money which Tabitha had pledged 
herself to set aside for missions each year; 
and when Philemon read the sum, we looked 
at each other across the table with happy tears. 

“ ‘ When we are working for the Lord we 
need not trouble ourselves about the harvest/ 
said Philemon. 

“ More than that, Tabitha had called upon 
her rich acquaintances, and had encouraged 
them to give out of their abundance. And 
she stated that the talk with her pastor and 
his wife had opened her eyes to other duties ; 
and she had taken a class in Sunday-school, 
and gathered in waifs of the great city, and 
clothed them suitably for their appearance 
there, and wonders that she could have left 
such a great duty undone ; and she wound up 
her letter by saying : 

“ 1 Dear Philemon, like you and Sister Ma- 
tilda, I am trying to live day by day, and find 
it good/ 


104 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS L 


“ She had said she longed to come to see ns 
and talk over these things, and Philemon and 
I wrote that evening and begged her to come ; 
and I never saw Philemon so eager to see any- 
body as he is to see Sister Tabitha. 

11 There he comes up the path ; I must go 
now. Come over, Dorcas, as soon as you 
can.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE ATHELINGS AT QUAKER MISSIONARY 
MEETING. 

“Good-evening, Dorcas. I came to Dor- 
ton for the mail, Philemon not feeling very 
well, and dropped in to tell yon of our first 
visit to David and his wife since they went to 
live in the city. 

“We went on Saturday, stayed three days, 
and had a lovely time, for they were so kind. 
And little Philemon is the prettiest and smart- 
est child I know of, and they are all well and 
cheery. 

“ David’s wife is a helpful, practical Chris- 
tian, always watching out for ways to do 
good ; and Philemon has begun to like 
Methodist ways, because she and David are 
such good people. 


105 


106 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ Sunday morning we all went to the 
Methodist church where they belong, and in 
the afternoon to the Friends’ Yearly Meeting 
— the reason of which I will explain further 
on — and in the evening to a church of our 
own denomination 5 and I must say we passed 
a happy day. 

• “ The next morning Philemon and I went 
again to Yearly Meeting, and in the afternoon 
to the Quaker missionary meeting ; and in the 
evening David’s wife had visitors, of whom I 
must tell you when I have more time, for I 
never was more interested in strangers in my 
life. 

“ I was glad that Philemon saw so much of 
the Quakers, for it took some of the queer 
notions that he had out of his head ; and only 
last evening he said, while we were sitting- 
after supper reading, ‘ Matilda.’ 

“ Said I, ‘Well?’ 

“ ‘ I believe that God put it in David’s 
heart to invite us while the Yearly Meeting 
and missionary meeting were going on, so 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 107 

that I might he made ashamed of my narrow 
and stiff-necked notion that our denomina- 
tion is the most favored of God. It isn’t 
Christian-like to he so uncharitable, and I am 
ashamed that I have lived so long without 
knowing it.’ 

“You see, Dorcas, I didn’t know that 
Philemon had such queer notions about the 
Quakers until that evening I came home 
from Joel Hollingsworth’s and told him 
about Ethel asking me to put her name 
on the contributing list of our missionary 
society. I bore his reply in mind ; and after 
supper that evening, when he laid down his 
paper and pared an apple, I thought it a good 
time to have him explain his meaning. 

“ So I said, 1 Philemon.’ 

“Said he, ‘Well T 

“ ‘ What did you mean when you said of 
Ethel Hollingsworth, “ Quaker or no Quaker, 
that woman is a Christian ” f ’ 

“ ‘ Why,’ answered Philemon, ‘ I meant 
what I said.’ 


108 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“‘Yes, but it sounded as if you thought 
that as a rule Quakers are not Christians . 7 

“ ‘ Well, who says they are ? 7 said he. ‘ They 
think a moral life will take folks to heaven ; 
do you call that being a Christian ? 7 

“‘Well, Philemon , 7 said I, ‘it appears to 
me that folks haven’t their title very clear for 
heaven unless they do lead a moral life . 7 

“ ‘ Yes, but that isn’t all , 7 said Philemon, 
as he reached for another pippin. ‘I heard 
once of a handsome, well-dressed man who 
was about to step upon an outbound steamer 
in the harbor of New York, when a detective 
went up to him, and laying his hand upon his 
shoulder, said : 

“ ‘ “ My friend, I wish you to come with 
me . 77 

“ ‘ “ What for ? 77 said the man. 

“ ‘ “ You know what for,” replied the de- 
tective. 

“ ‘ The man did know, for he had escaped 
from the penitentiary after two years’ im- 
prisonment, when he had been sentenced for 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 109 

ten, and had stayed out until collared by the 
detective that morning. 

“ ‘ “ Let me go and bid my wife and children 
good-by,” said he. 

“ ‘ “You can go, but I must go with you,” 
said the detective. 

“ ‘ So they went to an elegant home, and the 
wife and daughters were almost wild with 
grief over his capture, when they thought 
him safe from pursuit on the ocean. 

u < u k eg {. husband a nd father in the 
world,” they moaned ; “ who could find evil in 
him?” 

11 1 Yes, Matilda, he was a good husband 
and father, friend and neighbor; but that 
wasn’t enough ; the government wasn’t satis- 
fied, with his goodness; he hadn’t fulfilled 
its demands. Just so with the Quakers; they 
think a moral life is going to take them to 
heaven, so they depend on themselves and 
their own goodness.’ 

u c Have you ever heard a sermon from a 
Quaker preacher, Philemon?’ said I. 


110 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


u ‘ Yes, I have; and he took no text, and I 
had to follow him all around Robin Hood’s 
barn, as the saying is, to find out what he 
was driving at. But one thing I did under- 
stand, and that was that he didn’t consider 
Christ anything more than a good man. 
That’s heathenish.’ 

“‘Now, Philemon,’ said I, ‘it’s not fair to 
judge the whole lot by an imperfect sample. 
The Quakers are so liberal-minded in regard 
to the rights of their fellow-men that they 
allow anybody to rise up and. speak in their 
meetings who thinks he has a call to do so ; 
and sometimes things are said that are only 
that person’s opinion, and not what they, as a 
society, believe.’ 

“ 1 But, Matilda, they get married without 
the help of a minister of the gospel; that 
certainly isn’t lawful.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, it is lawful, Philemon, and beauti- 
ful, and very, very solemn ; but you were not 
brought up among Friends, and I suppose it 
does seem strange to you. The first Quaker 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. Ill 

wedding I ever attended was that of a cousin 
of father's, the day I was six years old ; and I 
remember it as though but yesterday. 

“ ‘ Bride and groom were members, and 
were married upon one of the week-day meet- 
ings at onr Friends' meeting-house. There 
was a deep snow upon the ground, and every- 
body came in sleighs. The great building was 
heated by tin-plate stoves, and the hickory- 
wood within them crackled and sparkled; 
and we children gathered about them, before 
taking our seats, to get thorough ty warmed, 
that we might wait with patience to see the 
wedding company come in, which seemed a 
long wait to us.' 

“ ‘ 1 suppose they had passed meeting,' re- 
marked Philemon, dryly — 4 passed, and forgot 
to come in.’ 

“‘No, Philemon,' said I; ‘what is meant 
by “passing” is that they had put their in- 
tention in writing, and placed it before the 
Monthly Meeting several weeks before that 
day, and it simply reads: “We, the subscri- 


112 


WHAT I TOLD DOECAS. 


bers, purpose taking each other in marriage, 
which we hereby offer for the approbation of 
Friends” Their names are signed to the 
paper, and that is what is meant by “ passing- 
meeting.” 7 

u 1 Well/ said Philemon , 1 the wedding com- 
pany are out in the cold all this time j hadn’t 
you better bring them in?’ 

Ul Yes/ continued I. 1 After a little time we 
heard the jingle of sleigh-bells, and the hum 
of voices, and the subdued stir and flutter out- 
side j then the measured tread of a number of 
people upon the porch which led to the en- 
trance, and the door opened; and all eyes 
were turned to see the bride and groom, and 
their attendants — -eight in all— -enter and take 
seats which faced the whole meeting. You 
never saw any one sweeter-looking than the 
bride, and the bridesmaids were almost as 
lovely — all gowned in dove-colored silk, soft 
and rich, and white-satin bonnets. They sat 
there for what seemed to us children a long 
time, and there wasn’t a sound in the house 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 113 

except a gentle rustle now and then, and the 
singing of the wood in the stoves. Then the 
bride and groom arose $ he took her hand in 
his and said, reverently : 

“ ‘ “ In the presence of the Lord, and before 
this assembly, I take Mary Harwood to be my 
wife, promising with the divine assistance to be 
unto her a loving and faithful husband until 
death shall separate us.” ’ 

“‘Well, that is binding enough, I take it/ 
said Philemon; ‘a man couldn’t have much 
conscience that would break a vow which he 
made with God’s help.’ 

“ ‘ No ; and then Mary Harwood, in her 
sweet, gentle voice, said : 

“ ‘ “ In the presence of the Lord, and before 
this assembly, I take Robert Clement to be my 
husband, promising with the divine assistance 
to be unto him a loving and faithful wife until 
death shall separate us.” ’ 

“‘But, Matilda,’ said Philemon, ‘there is 
nothing said about obeying in her promise.’ 

“‘No, Philemon,’ said I; ‘there is no sect 


114 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


which believes in perfect equality of the sexes 
more than Friends. If she promised to obey, 
so should he, for they are one/ 

“ 1 Well, it really seems solemn enough and 
lawful, and before plenty of witnesses, too/ 

11 1 1 should say so/ said I ; 1 for besides the 
twelve men and women Friends appointed by 
the meeting to be present, the whole neigh- 
borhood can go if they wish, and can put 
their names to the marriage certificate after 
it has been read to the assembly by a Friend 
appointed for the purpose, and after the bride 
and groom have recorded theirs. And then, 
Philemon, there is no denomination so par- 
ticular in regard to marriage ; for the couple 
must have the consent of their parents or 
guardians, and after they have passed meet- 
ing, two women-Friends visit the woman to 
see that she is free from engagement to any 
other man, and two men-Friends visit the 
man to see if he is free from all other en- 
gagements to women/ 

“ 1 But Quakers are queer, and you cannot 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 115 

say they are not, Matilda; look at the men, 
keeping their hats on in God’s house ! ’ 

“ 1 But, Philemon, their reason for that is 
that they consider taking off the hat a token 
of reverence, and to he observed only in their 
solemn approaches to the Supreme Being, when 
exercising the religious duties of preaching 
and prayer. These are the very words they 
use in explaining that; and they also say 
that taking off their hats to express reverence 
to man is something their conscience will 
not allow them to do.’ 

“ 1 Oh yes, their conscience ! ’ said Phile- 
mon; ‘ they lay so much stress upon that, 
that one might think conscience was the only 
God they worship.’ 

“‘Now, Philemon/ said I, ‘listen one mo- 
ment. Did you ever do wrong in your whole 
life that you didn’t know at the time that it 
was wrong ? And did you ever do right that 
you didn’t know it was right? No, you did 
not, Philemon ; I am sure of it ; and the 
Friends are telling the exact truth when they 


116 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


say that we all have an inner light or con- 
science within our hearts — a teacher ever 
near to point out the right and to counsel us 
to avoid the evil, if we will only heed its 
voice.’ 

“‘Oh well, Matilda/ said he, in a discon- 
tented tone, ‘why can’t they do like other 
people? What’s the use of their calling the 
days and months by numerals, and wearing 
such queer clothes, and objecting to tomb- 
stones in their graveyards ? ’ 

“ ‘ Why, Philemon/ said I, ‘ as far back as I 
can remember I heard a Quaker preacher ex- 
plain two of your queries, and I never forgot 
it. He said the reason the Friends avoided 
the names generally given the days of the 
week and the months of the year was because 
those names were originally ascribed by way 
of honor to the idols of heathen. He said 
that in Exodus, twenty-third chapter and 
thirteenth verse, the Lord commanded the 
cliildren of Israel to make no mention of the 
name of other gods, neither let it be heard 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 117 

out of their mouths. He gave us an example 
by mentioning several, of which I remember 
only January , it being the month in which 
my birthday comes 5 and June , because all 
our crown-roses bloomed that month. He 
said January was so called from Janus, an 
ancient king of Italy, whom heathen super- 
stition deified ; and June from Juno, a 
heathen goddess; and the most plain and 
simple, as well as the most ancient, cus- 
tom was to designate months and days by 
numerals.’ 

u £ But/ remarked Philemon, after a long 
pause, ‘that doesn’t explain their reason for 
wearing such queer clothes.’ 

u i iphg reason i Sj Philemon, that they take 
the Bible for their guide in the matter of 
dress, as in everything else. One apostle 
tells us, “ Be not conformed to this world ; ” 
and in another place, “I will that women 
adorn themselves in modest apparel ; ” and if 
Quaker clothes cannot be called modest ap- 
parel, I would like to see those that can.’ 


118 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ Philemon said nothing to that, so I 
proceeded : 

“ ‘ The apostle Peter is another guide to 
them when he says, “ Whose adorning, let it 
not be that outward adorning of plaiting the 
hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on 
of apparel.” So, Philemon, yon see, it is be- 
cause they don’t wish to conform to vain and 
changeable fashions that they dress as they 
do ; and there is many a society woman who 
is struggling to make a show on little money 
would be glad if she belonged to a society 
which wears a particular garb, for it saves a 
lot of money, and is the prettiest dress in the 
world.’ 

“‘It is a wonder you are not a Quaker, 
seeing you are so partial to them,’ remarked 
Philemon. 

“ ‘No, it’s not intended that we should all 
belong to the same denomination ; and I be- 
lieve in baptism and the Lord’s Supper, and 
several other things which the Friends think 
are forms only of man’s invention. They 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 119 

have a right to their belief, and I have a 
right to mine.’ 

u 1 You haven’t said anything about the 
tombstones; have you forgotten about the 
one in the Friends’ burial-ground that was 
taken up by some one as fast as the relatives 
set it in the ground ? ’ 

u 1 No, Philemon, I haven’t forgotten it ; 
but if you remember, that memorial wasn’t 
exactly a tombstone; it was a monument, 
and it is against their rules to have anything 
more than a memorial stone large enough to 
hold the name and date of birth and death. 
Neither do they approve of costly coffins and 
funerals — not only for the reason that they 
object to what is not plain and simple, but 
they think it sets a wrong example to those 
not able to have them, but who strive to keep 
up with the others.’ 

“‘Well,’ said Philemon, after a long gaze 
into the fire, ‘I don’t care what you explain 
away, Matilda — the Quakers are queer. Just 
think of their not believing that Christ was 


120 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


anything more than a good man. Of course 
it is no more than right for you to try to de- 
fend them, for you were raised in that de- 
nomination, and know them to be good, 
honest, peace-loving people ; but, so far as I 
can see, they lack the one thing needful/ 

“ ‘ No, Philemon, I wouldn’t try to defend 
anybody that is morally wrong; but I love 
justice and charity; for, you know, without 
charity we are but sounding brass. God 
does not restrict us to this denomination and 
that, but looks at the heart/ 

“‘But He wants us to believe in Christ; 
and that the Quakers don’t do, so far as I 
have ever heard/ 

“Just at that minute who should come but 
our son David. We were rejoiced to see him, 
and while he and Philemon talked I set out a 
good little supper for him, which I must say 
he enjoyed. Well, we talked all the evening, 
and when we were about to retire, Philemon 
said : 

“ ‘ Mother was uncommonly glad to see 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 121 

you, David 5 she had about run out of excuses 
for the Quakers/ 

“‘Well, father, 7 laughed David, ‘you and 
mother are coming up the last of the week to 
visit us, and it will be a first-rate time; for 
the Friends will be holding their Yearly Meet- 
ing, and you will hear for yourself what they 
believe/ 

“So that is how we came to visit Yearly 
Meeting. 

“People often say that I look and dress 
like a Friend, and I do, although not wearing 
the cute little sugar-scoop bonnet with plaited 
crown, but a drab-silk casing which I don’t 
change for every new fashion that happens 
along. 

“Well, as I mentioned before, Philemon 
and I went alone the second day of the meet- 
ing 5 and I wore my drab-silk dress and shawl 
to match, and Philemon the brown suit he 
wore to Missionburg. As we walked along 
and came in sight of the meeting-house, an 
idea came into my head. 


122 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ 1 Philemon/ said I. 

Ui Well?’ said he. 

“‘We will stay in for the business meeting 
which the members always have after the 
public meeting is over; and if they should 
invite us to go out — which won’t happen — we 
shall not be any worse off than if we didn’t try 
to stay in.’ 

“ Philemon didn’t say anything, which was 
a sign that he was willing to stay; so we 
parted at the door, and I went in at the 
women’s side of the house, and he went in at 
the men’s. 

“ As good luck would have it, we got close 
together after all, for we were both at the end 
of benches next the partition ; and I thought 
to myself, ‘I am real glad of this, for if I 
wasn’t here to encourage him he would get 
up and leave with the crowd the moment they 
commence to close the partition.’ 

“Well, the very first person that got up 
to preach was a small, delicate, sweet-faced 
woman ; and out of the corner of my eye I 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING . 123 

could see a curl come in Philemon’s lip, and a 
look in his eyes which — I knew as well as if he 
had said it — meant, ‘ What do women go gad- 
ding about for, conceiting, they can preach ? ’ 

“So I just sent up a little prayer: ‘Dear 
Lord, there is a fellow-pilgrim here who don’t 
believe in women preaching, and is all mixed 
up about the Quakers anywaj^. Put it into 
the power of that dear sister to enlighten his 
understanding, and to convince him that they 
are Thy servants, and obey Thy voice as well 
as we ; for Thy name’s sake. Amen.’ 

“It seemed that as the words arose from 
my heart, room was left for the sweetest 
peace and belief that the Lord would attend 
to that matter, and I need have no more con- 
cern about it. So I just listened to that ser- 
mon, while tears of joy filled my eyes to know 
that Philemon was so absorbed that he hadn’t 
ears nor eyes for anything else $ and the curl 
went from his lip as the words of that angel 
woman flowed smooth and swift and strong 
as the current of a calm but mighty river 


124 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


that was, in its quiet way, forcing before it 
all obstructions. She took up nearly all of 
the public meeting ; and no one Tyas sorry, for 
such a solemn hush as pervaded that great 
assembly I never knew; and when she fin- 
ished there was a general stir, as if, after 
having been to the very gates of heaven, they 
had suddenly found themselves back upon the 
earth. 

“Two men-preachers followed with a few 
strong words corroborating her testimony for 
Christ; then the partition glided down upon 
its cords, and the last glimpse I had of Phile- 
mon he was firm in his seat, and I sent up a 
little prayer of thanksgiving. 

“ There were things of great interest in the 
business meeting — wise plans for the Sunday- 
schools and other needs for the young people 
of the Society ; plans for helping the poor at 
our doors, and the distant Indians ; and what 
pleased me also was that they were to have 
a missionary meeting in the afternoon, and 
everybody was invited. 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 125 

“ On our way back to David’s I said, ‘ Phil- 
emon.’ 

“ Said he, ‘Well?’ 

“ 1 Let us go to Quaker missionary meeting 
this afternoon ; I might hear something that 
would be of use in our society.’ 

“Philemon was agreeable, and we went 
and heard lots of ways for carrying on the 
work, and were both so deeply interested that 
we were sorry when it was over. 

“ I passed out with the crowd, and was sit- 
ting upon a bench which was set against the 
meeting-house, waiting for Philemon, when 
who should come by but the dear sister who 
had preached in the morning, and she stopped 
to press my hand. 

“ ‘ I saw thee in our business meeting this 
morning,’ said she, in her sweet, gentle voice ; 
‘I judge thee is a member of our Society.’ 

“ ‘ No, but I was raised a Friend,’ said I, 

‘ and it seems very good and pleasant to be 
with them again.’ 

“ ‘ I suppose thee was disowned for marry- 


126 


WHAT 1 TOLD DORCAS. 


ing out of our Society V said slie, question- 
ingly. 

“ ‘ No/ said I, ‘ but my father was, which 
amounts to about the same thing. 7 

Ul I hope thee is happy in the church of thy 
choice, 7 said she; ‘we can all be Christians, 
even if certain forms distinguish one denomi- 
nation from another. I was glad to see thee. 
in our missionary meeting, and hope thee was 
pleased with the plans we are taking for the 
advancement of the kingdom. 7 

“ ‘ I was indeed, 7 replied 1 , 1 and am glad we 
had the chance to be at your meetings, for I 
wanted my husband to see the good you are 
doing in the world. You see he came of a 
family of stiff church people from way back, 
and he had never been to a Friends 7 meeting 
like this, and knows nothing about Friends ; 
and I am real glad he came to hear what you 
really believe. He is a first-rate man in his 
own church, but thinks — or did think until 
our son David married a Methodist — that his 
church is the only one. 7 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 127 

“ ‘ Well/ said she, gently, ‘I hope we satis- 
fied him. 7 

“ ‘ Yes, he could not help seeing that you 
are not only doing all you can for the poor 
abused Indian creatures, but also for the far- 
away heathen. And I was more than glad 
that he heard for himself that you believe 
that Christ was more than a good man. 7 

“ Just at that minute Philemon came around 
the corner of the meeting-house looking for 
me, and I beckoned to him to come, and in- 
troduced him to the preacher ; for the woman 
who sat next to me in the business meeting 
had told me her name. 

u 1 1 am truly glad to see thee. Friend Phil- 
emon, 7 said she, shaking hands with him , 1 and 
I hope thy prejudices are removed. 7 

“ 1 Yes, 7 said Philemon ; ‘ I have lived nearly 
fifty years in the world, and didn’t know until 
to-day what the Quakers did believe. 7 

u 1 Well, Friend Philemon, 7 said she, as 
sweet and gentle as an angel, ‘thee cannot 
accuse us of trying to keep any one in ig- 


128 


WHAT I TOLl) DORCAS. 


norance of our belief 5 we make no secret 
of it.’ 

“ ‘ But I have always heard/ said Philemon, 
‘ that you don’t take the Bible as your rule of 
faith and practice.’ 

“ ‘ 1 can only reply to that objection, 
Friend Philemon,’ said she, ‘by quoting the 
exact words of our Discipline, or, as thee 
would name it, “Creed”: “The Holy Scrip- 
tures being the external means of preserving 
and conveying to us an account of things 
most surely believed concerning the coming 
of Christ our Lord in the flesh, and the fulfil- 
ling of the promises relating thereto, it is the 
earnest concern of the Yearly Meeting to 
press upon Friends a diligent acquaintance 
with the sacred records, and that parents and 
heads of families would, both by example and 
advice, impress upon the susceptible minds of 
the youth a reverent esteem for the doctrines 
and precepts of the Christian religion con- 
tained therein, inducing them to believe that 
the same experience of the work of sanctifica- 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 129 

tion through the operations of the Spirit of 
God to which the Holy Scriptures abundantly 
bear testimony has been, and is to be, wit- 
nessed by believers in all generations. Our 
dear youth, thus educated in the belief of 
these important truths, may be prepared 
to receive the spiritual appearance of God 
in their hearts, according to our holy profes- 
sion.” Does that sound to thee, Friend 
Philemon, as if we did not believe in the 
Scriptures ? ’ 

“ 1 No/ said Philemon, ‘ it certainly doesn’t 5 
but I have always heard and believed that 
the Quakers don’t believe in the divinity of 
Christ, and really looked upon them as first 
cousins to heathens.’ 

“Well, my heart almost stood still, and 
my face blazed like a coal of fire, to hear 
Philemon speak in this way to that angelic 
little creature. But the only effect his words 
seemed to have upon her was an anxious con- 
cern that I should not feel hurt for her at his 
uncouth speech. She laid her white hand on 


130 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


my arm while she replied to him in her sweet, 
gentle tone $ for she knew he meant no harm, 
but was only, as an earnest, God-fearing man, 
seeking the truth. 

“ 1 In order to convince thee, Friend Phil- 
emon, that we do believe in the divinity of 
Christ, I will again quote from our Disci- 
pline, giving thee the exact words upon the 
subject, which are: “If any in membership 
with us shall deny the divinity' of our Lord 
and Saviour Jesus Christ, the immediate 
revelation of the Holy Spirit, or the authen- 
ticity of the Scriptures, it will thereby be 
manifest that they are not one in faith with 
us. If any shall blaspheme or speak pro- 
fanely of Almighty God, Christ Jesus, or the 
Holy Spirit, they should be timely and ear- 
nestly treated with, for the convincement of 
their understanding, that they may experi- 
ence repentance and forgiveness. But should 
they, notwithstanding such brotherly love, 
persist in their error, the Monthly Meeting to 
which they belong ought to declare the same, 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 131 

and issue its testimony accordingly.” Now, 
Friend Philemon, does that look as if we 
denied the divinity of Christ ? ’ 

“ ‘ It certainly doesn’t/ said Philemon , 1 and 
I can’t see what call people have for saying 
that Quakers believe a moral life is all any- 
body needs to get into heaven; for I never 
knew that you depended on anything else.’ 

11 1 Dear friend,’ said she, gently, ‘ if we 
looked on Christ as only a perfect example 
for living here upon earth, could we be as 
happy in our faith as we are ? Suppose there 
was a poor man in our penitentiary under 
sentence of death for murder, and a person 
should go to him and say, u Friend, our gov- 
ernor is a great and good man ; morally and 
intellectually he is an example worthy of be- 
ing followed.” No doubt the prisoner would 
agree to all this, knowing it to be true; but 
would that satisfy his needs ? No, it would 
not. But should the person say, “ Friend, 
the governor is a great and good man, and 
has sent you the pardon you asked for,” 


132 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS . 


would not that convey a happier meaning 
than any other message? Well, that is just 
the light in which we Friends view Christ. 
He is not only a perfect example for daily 
living, but also a Saviour, able and willing to 
save all who come to Him/ 

“ 1 But the Hicksites don’t believe in the 
divinity of Christ/ said Philemon; ‘it’s only 
the Orthodox, so I have been told/ 

“ ‘This is a Hicksite meeting, Friend Phile- 
mon, and the Book of Discipline from which 
I have quoted is that of the Hicksites. Did 
thee hear anything that leads to that belief ? ’ 
“‘No, I certainly did not/ said Philemon; 

‘ but if they believe all these things, why did 
they split from the Orthodox ? ’ 

“ 1 Only because of personal animosity 
among a few of the members at first, and 
which, like all strife, broadened and strength- 
ened. A wrong construction was put upon 
things said by Elias Hicks, and for long years 
was believed. But that gentle healer, Time, 
has explained away the erroneous things said 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 133 

of him, and while the two branches are one 
in the main questions of faith and practice, the 
Hicksites having received the name, given 
them by the Orthodox, retain it.’ 

u 1 It is queer there isn’t more said about 
their belief in print,’ said Philemon, hanging 
on to his objections as if he loved them so he 
couldn’t bear to let them go. 

“ 1 Does thee never see our Friends’ maga- 
zines and newspapers and other periodicals, 
Friend Philemon ? It is not the fault of the 
Society if other denominations do not take 
enough interest in us to know what our belief 
is. I can assure thee that we take interest 
in others, and see that while there is some 
difference in the form of worship, there is no 
essential difference in belief, and rejoice that 
all who are worthy shall dwell in heaven, no 
matter what the name may be of their de- 
nomination upon earth.’ 

“ 1 I wish I had all this down in black and 
white,’ said Philemon, looking away from her 
to the sea of faces that surrounded the meet- 


134 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


ing-house ; 1 some of our church people would 
open their eyes to read for themselves that 
Quakers had any other thought than peace 
on earth and good will to men, and a good 
living in this world.’ 

“ The loveliest tinge of rose came into that 
dear little creature’s face, and she smiled as 
she said, cheerily : 

“‘Well, Friend Philemon, providing for 
ourselves and families is a duty enjoined 
upon us, and a moderate enjoyment of the 
good things of this life will not keep us out 
of heaven. But if thee desires to see our be- 
lief “ down in black and white,” as thee says, 
thee need only consult a book called “ Cock- 
burn’s Review,” and another called “ The 
Portraiture of Quakerism,” by Thomas Clark- 
son, both to be found in any public library of 
the Friends’ Society.’ 

“‘I have always thought that Hicksites 
believed that all that was needed to get into 
heaven was a moral life on earth,’ said 
Philemon, doggedly. 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 135 

u 1 And thee heard aright, friend. A moral 
life is necessary ; bnt to live that good, moral 
life one must take Christ as his personal 
Saviour, a guide in all things ; must obey 
His teachings, and follow them. Yes, friend, 
a good life is necessary ; but one cannot live 
a good life out of Christ. Does thee think 
it possible? Does thee imagine we think it 
possible ? ’ 

“Well, I never saw Philemon in such a fix 
before that he couldn’t say something; but 
that time he was completely wound up or run 
down, and he turned to me, and said he : 

“ ‘ Matilda, won’t David’s wife wonder what 
has become of us ? ’ 

“ 4 Maybe she will,’ said I. 

And then that dear little woman gave her 
hand to Philemon and kissed me in farewell, 
and said she : 

“ 1 Dear friends, w~e are of one belief after 
all ; and when the angel of death, with wings 
fragrant from the odors of heavenly gardens, 
comes and takes us home, we will not be con- 


136 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


cerning ourselves with the little differences of 
creed and garb and speech, but will rejoice 
together in the smile of Him who died that 
we might live/ 

“So we went back to David's and took 
supper, and then came home. And while sit- 
ting by our evening lamp I noticed that Phil- 
emon had lowered his paper and was in deep 
thought. After a time said he, 1 Matilda/ 

“Said I, ‘Well?' 

“ ‘ I don't know what to think of myself,' 
said he. 1 1 used to be firm and settled in my 
conviction that our church was the only one 
that has the favor of God ; but of late I have 
become shaky in that opinion. First I gave 
in to the Methodists because of the goodness 
of David's wife; then the words in “Silent 
Times " let me see that Presbyterians were on 
the right road ; then I took to the Lutherans 
because of our neighbor, who is indeed a 
father in Israel ; then Baptist, Episcopal, and 
Congregational church papers sent me by 
David made me see that their doctrine was 


AT QUAKER MISSIONARY MEETING. 137 

sound ; and now I have taken in the Quakers. 
I don’t know what to call such a shackling 
change of opinion, Matilda ; I really don’t.’ 

u 1 Gall it growing in grace, Philemon,’ said 
I, tenderly ; 1 call it growing in grace, and you 
will be giving it the true and lawful name.’ ” 


CHAPTER VII. 


MRS. ATHELING AS A HOME MISSIONARY. 

“ Why, Dorcas, how do you do ! I am really 
glad to see you, and glad that our church 
picnic happened upon Saturday, allowing 
you to he with us, for it is such a splendid 
day to he in the woods. 

“Let us sit under the shade of that great 
oak and talk while the people are coming. 
Dear me ! doesn’t it seem strange that we 
elderly people have come to a picnic in the 
very woods where we played as children? 
Yes, we ran miles through these woods, play- 
ing ‘hide-and-go-seek’ and ‘prisoners’ hase’; 
and at the foot of this very oak we went 
through the pleasures and bothers of house- 
keeping, with bits of broken china and an old 
broom. 


138 


AS A HOME MISSIONARY. 


139 


“ But wliat I wish to tell you is something 
which has pleased me more than anything 
which has happened for some time. David’s 
wife told me of it when she was down, and 
there has been a feeling of thankfulness in 
my heart ever since. Yes, she came and 
brought little Philemon; and in the evening 
David came, and all stayed over Sunday, and 
we had a good time together. It was on 
Saturday evening, after Philemon and David 
had gone to a church council and little Phil- 
emon was in bed, that she told me the result 
of a little bit of home mission work which I 
did while Philemon and I were visiting her, 
and which I never for a minute thought would 
lead to so much. And it bids fair to lead to a 
great deal more ; in fact, no one on earth can 
tell the result of what we smiled at as a trifle. 

“You see, when Philemon and I went to 
visit David and his wife, I was a little 
downhearted over my want of success as a 
worker for missions — particularly for home 
missions — and I’ll tell you why. 


140 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“At the last meeting of our society each 
member was given a place to call to ask for a 
contribution for beneficial work and home 
missions, the particular necessity at that time 
being the help of a poor set of creatures 
named Bennett who lived down by the mill. 
They had been burned out of house and 
home, and Bennett had been hurt by a log 
falling on him while he was trying to save 
their bit of furniture, so that he wasn’t able 
to work. The mother, who was a poor ner- 
vous creature, shook to death with the ague ; 
and there was a whole raft of children of all 
sizes, like a paper of assorted needles; and 
none of them had a stitch of clothes except 
what they went to sleep in the night of the 
fire. 

“ So we planned to collect all the clothes we 
could, which would save buying new, and to 
give what money was contributed for other 
things needed ; and as ill luck would have it, 
my place was Zedekiah Granger’s. 

“Now you know Zed Granger as well as I 


AS A HOME MISSIONARY. 


141 


do ; you know that he is not only well off as 
to money, hut is the narrowest-minded and 
stingiest and most grasping creature in the 
whole neighborhood. I know the Bible says 
we must have charity of speech as well as of 
deed, and that charity is kind and thinketh 
no evil, and I believe it ; but when the whole 
neighborhood is pulling in one direction, and 
in the direction of truth into the bargain, it 
isn’t worth while for me to be pulling the other 
way by praising Zed Granger for good deeds 
he don’t do and for good traits he hasn’t got. 

“We all knew that the Granger children 
wouldn’t have any cast-off clothes, for Zed 
never allows Mrs. Granger any money for 
new ones until the children are in tatters, al- 
though he has a good farm and makes it pay, 
and has money out at interest besides. But 
Mrs. Benson said maybe I could soften his 
heart by telling him of the sufferings of the 
poor Bennetts, and maybe he would give 
money. I guess she mistrusted it wasn’t 
easy to soften what wasn’t there, for she 


142 


WHAT 1 TOLD DORCAS. 


only appointed that one place for me, while 
the others had two. 

“Well, I went, although I didn’t count 
upon anything but sneering remarks 5 and 
poor Mrs. Granger came to let me in, looking, 
as she always does, half starved ; and so she 
is, for rest and appreciation and generous liv- 
ing. I told her I wished to see Mr. Granger,' 
and she said she would tell him. Well, Zed 
came in, and the minute he set eyes on my 
subscription paper he froze right up, and 
looked as grim as the old tyrant he is; and 
you can’t go any further than that, Dorcas. 

“ ‘ Well, Mr. Granger,’ said I, in persuasive 
tones, 1 1 reckon you have heard of those poor 
creatures down by the mill who were burned 
out, and have no home, food, nor clothing.’ 

“ 1 Yes/ said he, 1 and I have just been say- 
ing it is exactly what such careless wretches 
deserve. They go to bed leaving an old 
wooden fireboard up with a bushel of soot 
behind it, which of course gets afire ; and the 
owner loses the house, and the neighbors are 



MRS. ATHELING AND MR. GRANGER. (Page 142.) 




AS A HOME MISSIONARY. 


143 


expected to give them better clothes than they 
had before. It is their own fault that they 
have lost the little they had/ 

“ 1 Yes/ said I, calm-like, ‘ I reckon they 
know that, and it does not make their loss 
any easier to bear. They were poor as poverty 
before the fire, and when Bennett was work- 
ing; now he is hurt from something falling 
upon his foot during the time, and has to 
walk on crutches; if somebody don’t fall to 
and help, they will starve/ 

“ 1 Well/ said he, ‘ let them starve ; there are 
too many of them, anyway, and the neighbor- 
hood would be glad to spare them/ 

u i There are some other folks the neighbor- 
hood could spare/ said I, looking searcliingly 
at him ; 1 leastways, they are no use to it/ 
“‘You are right/ said he, putting on the 
sneeringest look you ever saw ; ‘ and the ones 
that can be spared best are the women who 
go gadding about attending to other people’s 
business to the neglect of their own. I don’t 
know how Philemon Atheling may consider it, 


144 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


but I would rather my wife would sit at home 
darning stockings. 7 

“Well, I didn’t make any reply to that, for 
I knew the small, stingy creature only said it 
to keep from giving anything, though poor 
Bennett had done some hard days’ work on 
his farm, and had been ground down to the 
last cent of wages j for you know Bennett- 
just did a day’s work wherever he could get 
it, and Zed Granger is sometimes compelled 
to hire work done. 

“ ‘ Don’t you ever give any tiling to help 
people who are in trouble ? ’ said I. 

“ ‘ No, I don’t,’ said he ; ‘ 1 let folks look out 
for themselves ; it isn’t my fault that Bennett 
and his children are half starved, neither is it 
my fault that he got hurt and can’t work. 
No, I don’t give a red cent to such careless 
wretches ; I never did, and I never will.’ 

“‘Well,’ said I, ‘that is what the whole 
neighborhood says of you, but I thought it 
might be worth while to try. Do you count 
on going to heaven with that way of doing?’ 


AS A HOME MISSIONARY. 


145 


“ ‘ I reckon so/ said he, looking as hard- 
favored as one of those ugly figures on an old 
Dutch pipe ; 1 the dying thief never gave any- 
thing to help his neighbors as ever I heard of, 
and he went straight to Paradise.’ 

“ ‘ And don’t you give anything to the 
church to help the spread of the gospel ? ’ 
<u No, I don’t ; the dying thief never gave 
anything to the church that I ever heard of ; 
I am just like him.’ 

u 1 And don’t you give anything to convert 
the heathen,’ said I — ‘ those poor creatures 
that have souls as well as wef’ 

“ 1 No,’ said he, 4 1 don’t give a farthing, and 
don’t intend to. I get all I can, and don’t care 
who loses by it, and keep all I get. Look at 
the dying thief ; he didn’t give anything to 
the heathen that I ever heard of, yet he went 
to Paradise ; I am just like him.’ 

“ 1 No, you are not, Zed Granger,’ said I, as 
I rose to leave 5 ‘you are not like him, and 
the difference is that he was a dying thief and 
you are a living one.’ 


146 


WHAT 1 TOLD DORCAS. 


“ You see, Dorcas, I was not the one to ask 
Zed Granger for money; it ought to have 
been somebody who didn’t know so much 
about him, and would not have lost her 
temper and cast any of his meannesses up to 
him. The particular meanness I had in my 
mind at that minute was his borrowing eighty 
dollars from Simeon Petticord — Sarah’s hus- 
band — and giving his note payable at a 
specified date. Well, Simeon being honest 
himself, and Zed being a well-to-do neighbor, 
and more than all, Simeon not knowing him as 
well as most of us do, he let it run out of date, 
and Zed refused to pay it. He said if people did 
not attend to their own business they could 
not expect other people to do it for them. 

“I knew that what I said was true, yet I 
was a little scared. The words seemed to say 
themselves, and I believe it was intended that 
they should be said. I expected an outbreak 
of temper from Zed ; instead, he smiled one of 
his grim smiles and let me pass out without a 
word. And I realized that I wasn’t a success 


AS A HOME MISSIONARY. 


147 


at collecting for home missions,- so when 
David’s wife told me the result, so far, of 
one of my attempts at it, I just raised my 
eyes in thankfulness and said, ‘ Praise God, 
from whom all blessings flow.’ 

“To begin at the beginning, I must tell 
you that directly back of David’s house there 
is an alley, and in one of the old houses a 
man named Hale and his fourteen-year-old 
daughter Gerty had two rooms on the first 
floor. 

“ The father was a tall, pale, downhearted- 
looking man, who just managed to live 
by doing the odd jobs he could get. They 
hadn’t lived there but a few months, and the 
mother had died a little while after they came. 

“ David’s wife had seen her once, and said 
she was a ladylike little creature, that looked 
as if she had never known till then what hard 
times were ; and David said that that family 
had a history as sure as his name was David 
Atheling, and he was certain that such people 
were not at home in an alley. 


148 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“Hale was as handsome as a picture, and 
David’s wife said he always made her think of 
representations of martyrs which she had seen 
in cathedrals. After his wife died he didn’t 
seem to care to live, and they got poorer and 
poorer, until neither he nor Gerty looked as 
if they had enough to eat, and were very 
shabby and wretched. 

“David’s wife helped Gerty all she could, 
and the child came often and never went 
.away empty-handed. 

“Well, the Monday we were going to 
Friends’ Yearly Meeting, Philemon had gone 
down to the store with David just for the 
walk, and was to come back in time to go to 
meeting, and David’s wife was busy upstairs. 
I was in the parlor reading, when I heard 
a tap at the dining-room door, and when I 
opened it there stood Gerty. 

“ ‘ This is little Philemon’s birthday,’ said 
she, ‘and I brought him my kitten as a 
present.’ 

“ David’s wife came in just then, and was 


AS A HOME MISSIONARY . 


149 


pleased to have the kitten — though not one of 
those foolish, if not sinful, mothers who allow 
their little ones to worry the lives out of these 
helpless dumb creatures — and said she : 

“ ‘ Gerty, it is very kind of you, but it is 
the only pet you have ; are you sure you “are 
willing to part with it?’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ replied Gerty, her beautiful brown 
eyes full of tears ; ‘ for you are so good to me, 
and I have nothing else to give.’ 

“‘Well/ said David’s wife, ‘you can sit 
here and talk to grandma while I get some of 
little Philemon’s birthday-cake for yon.’ 

“So while she got a basket, and put in it 
bread, tea, meat, butter, a cup of jelly, and 
the cake, I told Gerty what I had been reading 
of child-life in heathen countries, and many 
other things I had read and heard; and I 
never saw anybody take more interest than 
she did. 

“‘Now, Gerty,’ said David’s wife, as the 
child rose to go, ‘ I have put a few things in 
this basket, but wish to make you a little 


150 


WHAT / TOLD DORCAS. 


present besides, because you were so kind as 
to remember my boy’s birthday ; what do you 
need the most ? ’ 

“ Gerty didn’t say anything for some time ; 
she was considering. 

I guess I will go home and think it 
over/ said she, ‘ and come back and tell you.’ 

“In the meantime I had been thinking 
what I could give her, and went up to my 
room and brought down a set of fine cambric 
ruffles ; and I never saw anybody so delighted. 
She wouldn’t touch them with her hands — 
which I must say weren’t as clean as pos- 
sible — but asked me to wrap them in paper 
for her, which I did, and she ran through the 
yard and alley-gate to her home. 

“‘Well, mother/ laughed David’s wife as 
soon as Gerty was beyond hearing-distance, 
‘ I could scarcely keep from smiling when I 
saw you giving her those dainty frills, for I 
thought to myself if you could see the inside 
of their house you would know that they were 
going where they would be strangers and out 


AS A HOME MISSIONARY. 


151 


of place and lonely. But who would imagine 
that Gerty would be so pleased ? ’ 

u ‘Yes, she was/ said I, 4 for there is no ac- 
counting for children. One Christmas I had 
not provided a present for David, and was 
real vexed thinking of his disappointment, 
when the thought struck me of a bright new 
tin pan which he had not seen, and I put it 
beside his crib, where he could see it the min- 
ute he awoke. Well, nothing I could have 
bought would have pleased him more ; for he 
hunted a stick and made a drum out of the 
pan, which I let him beat to his heart’s 
content.’ 

“Well, as I was saying, Gerty ran home; 
and after eating until she was satisfied of the 
things David’s wife had given her, she put 
the rest aside for her father, and then sat 
down to consider what she needed most, 
while gazing at the ruffles in the paper. At 
length a bright idea came to her ; she 
darted out and ran through David’s gate 
and knocked. 


352 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ ‘ I think/ said she, almost out of breath, 
1 that what I need most is a piece of soap.’ 

“We couldn’t keep from laughing at that, 
for she certainly did need it; and Gerty 
laughed too, as David’s wife gave her a bar 
of brown soap and a cake of sweet-scented 
toilet-soap ; and too happy to speak, she ran 
home, and afterward told David’s wife all she 
had done. 

“First she took off her calico dress — the 
only one she had ; then she put on an old sack 
of her mother’s, stuffed a bit of rag in the leaky 
tin wash-basin, and gave her dress a thorough 
washing and spread it in the sun to dry. Then 
she went to the floor above and took care of 
the poor hurried tailor- woman’s baby for the 
use of a hot iron and needle and thread. 

“She played with the little one until it 
dropped asleep, then ironed her dress, put the 
ruffles in the neck and sleeves, and was about 
to put it on a chair when a new thought 
struck her. 

“ ‘ Dear, dear ! I can never think of putting 


AS A HOME MISSIONARY. 


153 


these ruffles on such a chair as that/ thought 
she. So, taking the dress into the next room, 
she took the borrowed articles home, came 
back, and scrubbed the old chair for the first 
time in her life. The contrast between it and 
the others was so great that she kept on until 
the other chair, stool, and rickety table were 
scoured as white as hands could make them. 

“ 1 The whole room needs cleaning/ thought 
she, gazing at the bleared windows and 
smutty floor. 1 I can’t put on my clean 
ruffles in such a place as this. I will clean 
it, and never, never let it look so again.’ 

“ David’s wife said the ruffles had proved a 
tree of knowledge : through them Gerty real- 
ized the responsibilities of a housekeeper ; and 
such a cleansing as the room got that day it 
had not known since the Hales took posses- 
sion. It looked so clean and bare that one 
could not help thinking it stood the chance 
of taking cold from having the thick coat 
which Father Time had provided removed so 
suddenly. 


154 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“Fresh from her toilet-soap bath, Gerty 
brushed and plaited her beautiful hair, and 
donned her dress. With great care she ar- 
ranged the viands given her upon the clean 
table while the tiny fire was boiling the water 
for tea. 

“Her father came languidly in, and they 
took their places, Gerty feeling more comfor- 
table than she had done since living without 
a mother’s care. 

“After a time the unkempt object opposite 
her took her attention from the ruffles which 
made her hands appear white and small, and 
she spoke her thoughts : 

“ 1 Pap, you look very dirty ! ’ 

“ 1 1 know it/ replied Hale, reddening ; 
‘ sometimes I think that is the reason I 
cannot get employment. Business men don’t 
want even a porter as shabby as I am ; but I 
cannot help myself, I am entirely discouraged.’ 

“ ‘ Papa,’ said the little woman, 1 you don’t 
know how much better people feel when they 
are clean. After supper I will take off my 


AS A HOME MISSIONARY. 


155 


dress and new ruffles and put on my old sack, 
and heat some water real hot, and you and I 
will wash your clothes. You can put on any 
old rags after dark, and your clothes will be 
nearly dry by morning, and the sun will finish 
them. Will you, papa?’ 

“Hale did not enter into the scheme wfith* 
the same spirit as the girl, but agreed ; so 
Gerty borrowed a tub and rope, and soon the 
once fine and black, but now soiled and rusty, 
suit was hanging to dry. 

“ The next morning the garments were of 
the right dampness to iron ; then Gerty 
placed them in the sun, while Hale, in his 
closet room, was, with the help of the toilet- 
soap, enjoying the luxury of a thorough bath. 
He had sold his razor weeks before for bread ; 
but the faithful neighbor above-stairs loaned 
a pair of scissors, and Gerty trimmed his 
hair, whiskers, and mustache, his shoes were 
blacked with soot, and he was ready to set out 
again upon his wanderings in search of work. 

“ 1 You look just elegant, papa/ said Gerty, 


156 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


throwing her arms about his neck and kissing 
him ; ‘ you are the handsomest man I know ; 
any rich girl would be proud to have you for 
a father/ 

“ With this praise poor Hale went, not com- 
forted nor cheered — for he was too ill fed and 
'discouraged for that — but not so entirely 
hopeless as he was the evening before. 

“Toward night he came home, bringing 
with him a juicy beefsteak, coffee, and many 
other substantial things for supper, and put 
a bright silver dollar into the hand of the 
bewildered Gerty. 

“ 1 1 got a position in the very first store I 
called at this morning/ said he. 1 The clerks 
were talking of the sudden and fatal illness 
of the bookkeeper, and I asked to see the 
owner and was shown to his office. Without 
stopping a moment to consider, I asked for a 
position as bookkeeper ; he asked for a refer- 
ence, and I gave the name of a gentleman 
he knew; I waited until he wrote a note 
to him and got a reply. He engaged me 


AS A HOME MISSlOJYAIiY. 


157 


directly at the same salary he had given the 
former bookkeeper; I went to the desk, and 
have been there all day. I don’t know what 
put it into his heart to call me back and put 
two dollars into my hand, but he did ; and 
may God bless him for his thoughtfulness as 
he deserves to be blessed.’ 

“Well, Dorcas, that very evening Hale 
came to see David and his wife, and told 
them the good news, and asked if they would 
take Gerty to board, that she might go to a 
good school, and be under the care of a kind, 
good woman for whom Gerty had great affec- 
tion — for she almost adores David’s wife. 

“They said she might come, and Hale’s 
first month’s salary bought them both new 
clothes; and Gerty is in one of the best 
schools, learning wonderfully fast, and goes 
to church and Sunday-school, and is sweet 
and amiable and pretty as any girl there. 
David’s wife says that she often speaks of 
what I told her about the heathen, and has 
made up her mind to go as a missionary 


158 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


when she is older and has a good education j 
and David’s wife knows that she means it. 

“Gerty says that my gift of the dainty 
little ruffles was the start of it all 5 and I can- 
not help but wonder that such small events in 
this life often lead to great results, encourag- 
ing one to watch day by day for chances to 
help our fellow-pilgrims. 

“ Dorcas, just look at the people coming 
to the picnic ! I am so glad we came early 
enough to have this good talk.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

SARAH PETTICORD COLLECTS FOR MISSIONS. 

“ Well, Dorcas Littlefield ! Of all the peo- 
ple I know, I didn’t expect yon would be at 
camp-meeting to-day, for I heard yon hadn’t 
gotten back from your vacation journey. I 
am real glad to see you j and now that morn- 
ing preaching is over and people have gone to 
their tents and carriages for dinner, we can 
sit right here under this shade and talk, for I 
wanted to tell you about oar missionary meet- 
ing in general, and about Sarah Petticord col- 
lecting for home missions in particular. 

“ You see, Sister Slocum’s niece — or, what 
is more correct, her late husband’s niece — 
Serena Slocum, married a missionary, and 
went several years ago out to Nebraska, 
159 


160 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


where they are doing good work teaching 
and Christianizing the Indians. 

“ Sister Slocum kept hearing of them time 
and again, and they were getting along very 
well; then for a long time she didn’t hear 
anything till a few weeks ago, when news 
came to her that Serena and the children 
were down with scarlet fever, and they were 
as poor as poor could be, and in need of help. 

“ Sister Slocum is as generous a creature as 
ever lived, and was as willing to help Serena 
as if she was her own daughter; but you 
know she has a large family of her own, and, 
being a widow, has much care, and her heart 
ached because she couldn’t send Serena 
money in her great need ; but as she couldn’t 
she did the next best thing, which was to re- 
port the case to the missionary society. 

“Well, the president called a meeting, for 
the case was urgent ; and we all gave what we 
could, and then a committee was appointed to 
go out collecting. 

“We were all willing to go, and in the 


COLLECTING FOR MISSIONS. 


161 


general talk and canvassing of places where 
it was considered best to go, I happened 
to say that I didn’t care where I went so it 
wasn’t to Zed Granger’s. 

“ ‘ Sure enough/ said the president, ‘ we have 
forgotten him, and he is so well able to give.’ 

“‘Yes/ said I, ‘that is a fact; he is well 
able ; but between that and being willing is a 
considerable stretch.’ 

“ ‘ Don’t yon consider it worth while to call 
upon him, Sister Atheling?’ said she, looking 
inquiringly at me. 

‘“No/ said I, ‘ I don’t think it is, as I cal- 
culate that the whole result would be that 
those who went would wish they hadn’t.’ 

“‘Perhaps Sister Petticord will go/ said 
she, turning to Sarah. ‘ It is indeed a worthy 
object, and as the missionary and his wife are 
in a manner known to Mr. Granger, it is to 
be hoped that he will contribute.’ 

“We all glanced at Sarah, who sat there, 
fair and serene, and saying nothing ; and no- 
body but I who know her so well would 


162 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


have suspected that she had heard a word of 
it. And just then somebody mentioned an- 
other place that had been overlooked, and 
Zed Granger -was forgotten by all but Sarah, 
who, as it appeared afterward, had made up 
her mind to get money out of Zed Granger 
for home missions, or perish in the attempt. 

“Well, we adjourned with the understand- 
ing that we would all go collecting that even- 
ing and next morning, then have a meeting in 
the afternoon to report what we had done. 

“ I thought I had done well, and I believe 
all the members thought that of themselves, 
until the meeting the next afternoon, when in 
walked Sarah Petticord and laid one hundred 
and twenty-five dollars upon the table. 

“‘Fifty of it/ said she, ‘is from Philip 
Starkey, and seventy-five from Zedekiah 
Granger. 7 And then she went and took 
her seat as unconcerned as if, to my be- 
wildered understanding, the ceiling wasn’t 
coming down to meet the floor and the floor 
going up to meet the ceiling. 


COLLECTING FOR MISSIONS. 


163 


“Yes, Dorcas Littlefield, I just sat and 
stared at Sarah Petticord, wIlo had laid that 
money down and read it off as composedly as 
if it wasn’t anything out of the order of 
things for Zed Granger to be giving seventy- 
five dollars for every object that happened 
along. 

“ I wasn’t the only one that was taken com- 
pletely by surprise, and I could see that the 
president and every member there was hop- 
ing that Sarah would explain j but that is not 
her way, and they all had to leave without 
knowing. 

“ 1 Well,’ thought I to myself, 1 you may be 
as silent as you please, Sarah, but as sure as 
my name is Matilda Atheling, I am going to 
find out what softened the spot where Zed 
Granger’s heart ought to be, to make him 
give seventy-five dollars for home missions.’ 

“You know I have a firm belief that 
Providence helps those who help themselves j 
so while the others were talking over the best 
way to send the money, the thought came to 


1 64 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


me that Sarah Petticord was a great friend of 
Sister Slocum’s, and if she had told anybody 
how she succeeded in getting that money, she 
had told her. So I resolved to walk home 
with Sister Slocum; for it wasn’t much out 
of my way — at least, not enough to make her 
suspect that I had a motive. 

“Well, we talked all the way there about 
the wonderful success we had, and that of 
Sister Petticord in particular ; but she didn’t 
say a word about how Sarah managed, and 
I couldn’t get my own consent to ask, but 
adopted Sarah Petticord’s plan of keeping 
silent unless there was a point to be gained 
by talking. So we chatted of this, that, 
and the other until we reached her door; 
and as I was no nearer knowing than when 
we started, I accepted her invitation to go in 
and rest. 

“ So I took one rocking-chair, and she took 
another; and every now and again I would 
hint at Sarah Petticord’s usefulness in the 
missionary society, and what a good hand she 


COLLECTING FOB MISSIONS. 


165 


was at collecting clothes, and how liberal she 
was with her time and money, and mentioned 
that I hadn’t been very successful in collect- 
ing cash for the Nebraska missionary’s family, 
but had the promise of clothing for the box 
which was to follow the money; but Sarah 
seemed particularly successful in getting 
contributions in cash. 

u But it was all of no use ; Sister Slocum 
agreed with everything I said, and added 
scraps of information of Sarah’s usefulness 
that I hadn’t heard; and time was passing 
and I must go home, the chance being that 
my extra walk was without result; so I re- 
solved to make a bold move. 

u i Law, Sister Slocum,’ said I, commencing 
to tie my bonnet-strings, 1 do you ever call to 
see Mrs. Granger? I often think she leads 
a dull life, seeing nobody and going nowhere, 
and tyrannized over by that grim old fossil, 
Zed Granger.’ 

“ ‘ Now, Sister Atheling,’ said Sister Slocum, 
laughing till her face was as red as my new 


166 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS . 


table-cover, ‘just stop eddying and circling 
about that subject, but come right to the 
point and ask how Sarah Petticord got that 
seventy-five dollars out of Zedekiah Granger j 
for I know you are terribly anxious to hear. 7 

“ I was a good deal taken aback, but was so 
proud of my smartness in judging that Sister 
Slocum was the one to apply to that I said, 
boldly : 

‘“Yes, I am more than terribly anxious to 
hear, and, if I am not mistaken, the whole 
missionary society is in the same fix, for it 
certainly must have been done by some magic 
or other.’ 

“ ‘ No/ said she, ‘ there is no magic about 
it, and Sarah Petticord did not tell me not to 
mention it 5 at the same time, no one would 
have gotten to know it if I had not been with 
her and heard it all. And, Matilda Atheling, 
it was as entertaining as a play. Sarah Petti- 
cord was intended for a lawyer or a detective, 
or some other shrewd creature, and fairly out- 
witted Zed Granger, although he thinks he is 


COLLECTING FOB MISSIONS. 


167 


the smartest person in the neighborhood. 
But his Greek and Latin didn’t help him in 
that case, and school-teacher as he was once, 
he couldn’t figure out how to keep from pay- 
ing the seventy-five dollars he promised, 
particularly as I was a witness of the whole 
affair.’ 

“ i Yes,’ said I, 1 Sarah Petticord is one of 
the shrewdest persons I ever knew, and Zed 
Granger is full of his mineralogy and geology 
and all the other ologies under the sun ; but 
the one he has learned the best is how to hold 
on to his money; and what induced him to 
part with seventy-five dollars for home mis- 
sions is what I want to know.’ 

“‘Well, Sister Atheling,’ said she, ‘ untie 
your bonnet-strings again and make your- 
self comfortable, and I will tell you the whole 
story. 

“ 1 Last evening, after our supper was over, 
and I was sitting here knitting, Sarah Petti- 
cord came in, with a basket in her hand, and 
said she : 


168 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


UiU Sister Slocum, I am going down to pass 
the evening with Mrs. Granger, and want you 
to go with me. I heard she wasn’t well, and 
we will try to cheer her by talking over our 
school-days. To be sure she wasn’t one of 
us, but Zed was, and she may take interest on 
that account. They have been wanting some 
of my Cochin eggs, but Zed was too stingy to 
buy them, so I concluded to give them to Mrs. 
Granger. Here are thirteen beauties, which 
will hatch out as many Cochins if the hen 
they give them to does her duty by them.” 

u 1 So, Matilda, I put on my wraps and 
rolled up my knitting, and we walked down 
the road and were soon knocking at the 
Grangers’ front door. 

“ ‘ Well, Sarah knocked and I knocked, and 
then Sarah knocked again ; but there wasn’t 
a sign nor sound of anybody coming to let us 
in. The tops of the graveyard-looking ever- 
greens which are all around the house and 
down each side of the front path clear to the 
gate were gently moving in the evening 


COLLECTING FOIi MISSIONS. 


169 


breeze; and every now and again the wind 
would freshen up and sigh through them, till 
my spirits went down several degrees below 
the chilly point, and I said to myself that if 
I were only home again in my old rocking- 
chair, Sarah and her Cochin eggs would have 
to try harder than they did to get me to 
leave it. 

“ L u Let us go around to the kitchen,” whis- 
pered Sarah ; u they always sit there, for the 
front of the house hasn’t been open for years, 
so far as I know.” 

“‘Well, we went through the path to 
the back of the house, which was so thickly 
strewn with pine-needles that we couldn’t 
have made a sound if we had tried. Sarah 
was ahead, and when we reached the kitchen 
door what did she do but open it and walk 
in, and there sat Zed and Mrs. Granger and 
the children around the kitchen table; and 
we knew by their looks that they had heard 
us at the front door and concluded we had 
gotten tired and gone home. 


170 


WHAT J TOLD DORCAS. 


“‘They looked bewildered, and I stood 
there without being able to even say u Good- 
evening to you all ” ) but Sarah was as sweet 
and smiling as a May morning, as though she 
was the most looked-for and welcome guest in 
the world. 

“ 1 They didn’t ask us to take seats, but 
Sarah took one, and I dropped into the one 
nearest to me and waited to see what she 
would do next. 

u 1 She took her bonnet off and put it on 
the chair where she had set her basket of 
eggs, took her knitting out, and was as 
cheery and comfortable as if in her own 
parlor at home, instead of where we weren’t 
wanted. 

u i Zed stared at us both with his cold blue- 
gray eyes, and Mrs. Granger stood looking as 
helpless as anything would that was so taken 
by surprise, while the children acted as dazed 
as if they had just landed upon the ground 
after a whirlwind had scattered them and 
their wits in the upper air; for such a cir- 


COLLECTING FOB MISSIONS. 


171 


cum stance as a neighbor coming to pass 
an evening had never happened in their 
recollection. 

“ ‘ After a time Mrs. Granger seemed to 
remember that I had my bonnet on, and she 
came and untied the strings ; and when I took 
it off she put it on the chair with Sarah’s, and 
sat down beside me without saying a word. 
And there sat Sarah, knitting away, and 
chatting to Zed and the children, and not 
caring for an answer. I took the cue from 
her, and commenced talking to Mrs. Granger $ 
and she listened and talked a little, and really 
laughed once or twice when I recalled some 
of Sarah’s and my school exploits. 

“‘We had all commenced to feel more 
comfortable, when the clock struck eight; 
and Zed Granger stopped right in the midst 
of something he was saying to Sarah, and, 
looking around at the children like the grim 
old tyrant he is, he pointed to the clock and 
then at the old carriage-whip behind the 
door, and in less time than it takes to tell it 


172 


WHAT I TOLD DOliCAS. 


the children were scurrying upstairs to bed, 
and we had the room to ourselves. 

“ 1 Then Sarah, as calm and smiling as 
usual, brought up the subject of chickens; 
and reaching for her basket, she gave Mrs. 
Granger the eggs. And you never saw any 
one so pleased; and even Zed brightened 
up — seeing he was getting them for nothing 
— and said he had always intended buying 
some, but put it off from time to time ; and 
Sarah smiled in a saintly way and said it was 
a great pleasure to her to give them to Mrs. 
Granger. 

“ 4 The subject of poultry -raising seemed to 
be of interest to Mrs. Granger, so I told her 
of my plans ; and during our conversation I 
could hear Sarah say some witty thing, and 
Zed would laugh. — not the hearty laugh of a 
genuine, generous-hearted man, but a poor 
meager affair, as though he begrudged it. 
Sarah is a born politician, and is on the 
same side as Zed ; and he grinned like an old 
opossum to hear her laying out some of the 


COLLECTING FOR MISSIONS. 


173 


office-holders who hadn’t conducted the affairs 
of the nation according to her notions, and 
expressing her views exactly according to 
Zed’s mind, hut what he wasn’t smart enough 
to say. 

“‘Well, Sister Atheling, -Mrs. Granger and 
I got so interested in what we were talking 
of that I missed hearing them j and after 
a while I heard Sarah mention the name of 
Philip Starkey, and I almost dropped stitches 
in my knitting in surprise that she dared 
mention that name under that roof. You 
know, Zed Granger had a quarrel with Philip 
Starkey, and there were hot words and angry 
threats of a lawsuit — all about a corner-stone 
which Philip Starkey declared that Zed Gran- 
ger had moved one night in order to take land 
off him to add to his own. 

“‘We all know that Philip Starkey is al- 
most as close in his dealings as Zed ; but he 
asks nothing but his own, and his own he 
will have ; so he moved the stone back. And 
the next night Zed moved it again ; and when 


174 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


Philip, who was watching, stepped np to re- 
place it, Zed ordered him off his land or there 
would be trouble, and they have been ill 
friends ever since. 

“ ‘ Sarah knew the whole affair, and, like 
everybody in the neighborhood, believed 
Philip Starkey to be in the right; so when 
I heard her mention his name I expected an 
explosion, and it came ; for Zed Granger’s fist 
came down with such force upon the rickety 
table as to set the tallow candle to dancing. 

“‘“If you get fifty dollars out of that 
sheep-faced scoundrel, Philip Starkey, for 
that lean dog of a missionary,” said he, “ you 
may count upon me for seventy-five.” And, 
as if in defiance of Philip Starkey, he took 
pen and ink and a check-book from a drawer 
in the old table, filled up a check for seventy- 
five dollars on the Dorton bank, payable to 
Sarah Petticord, signed it, and held it up for 
us to see. 

“‘“Yes,” said he, with one of his grim 
smiles, “get your fifty from Starkey, and 


COLLECTING FOB MISSIONS. 


175 


here’s your seventy-five ; but until you do get 
it, my check stays here.” And taking an old 
pocket-book from his coat, he put the check 
in it, put the pocket-book back, and buttoned 
up his coat tight and secure. 

“‘Well, Matilda, I declare if Sarah Petti- 
cord didn’t rise up and say, “Come, Sister 
Slocum;” and we put on our bonnets and 
wraps and left our knitting upon the table, 
and walked out and down the road to Philip 
Starkey’s. 

“ ‘ A bright light was shining in the front 
rooms of his house, and Sarah knocked ; and 
we were invited in as Christians, and not left 
to force our way like burglars. 

“‘Sarah told Philip the whole story, and 
concluded by saying that it rested with him 
whether we got seventy-five dollars out of 
Zedekiah Granger or not for the poor crea- 
tures out in Nebraska who were down with 
scarlet fever, and were out of money and far 
from relatives and helpers. 

“‘“Well,” said Philip Starkey, “I have 


176 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


enough to do to provide for them who are 
dependent upon me, and have use for every 
dollar I can lay hands on, and don’t know 
anything about the missionary and his family 
you are speaking of ; but I do know that it is 
worth fifty dollars to squeeze one out of old 
Zed Granger for any purpose ; so I will give 
you fifty, with the understanding that you are 
to give it back to me if Zed rues his bargain.” 

u c Sarah promised, and Philip counted out 
the money and gave it into her hand ; and 
she gave him a receipt for it, and asked him 
to write a note saying that he had given fifty 
dollars to the Woman’s Home and Foreign 
Missionary Society for the benefit of a Ne- 
braska missionary’s family; and then Sarah 
thanked him and bade him good-night, and we 
went back to Zedekiah Granger’s. 

11 1 Well, we got there in a few minutes, and 
opened the front gate and went round to the 
back of the house, and found the light out, the 
shutters closed, and the whole place as silent 
as the grave ; and we standing there with fifty 


COLLECTING FOR MISSIONS. 


177 


dollars and a note which we doubted of hav- 
ing the chance to read to Zed Granger. 

“‘I was for going right back to Philip 
Starkey’s with the money ; but that was not 
Sarah Petticord’s way. 

“ 1 She knocked once, and then we waited ; 
and said she, loud enough for anybody to hear 
that was listening : 

“ ‘ “ No, Sister Slocum, we will wait until 
Mrs. Granger lets us in to get our knitting, 
and Mr. Granger gives us his check. It will 
save him the trouble of bringing it in the 
morning, as he would have to come early, 
fearing we will give back the fifty, thus giving 
Mr. Starkey the chance to tell the neighbor- 
hood that Mr. Granger promised and then re- 
fused to live up to it.” 

“ 1 The words were scarcely out of her 
mouth when up went a window overhead, 
and Mrs. Granger’s weak voice said : 

“ 1 “ Is that you, Mrs. Petticord f Mr. Gran- 
ger will be down in a minute.” 

“‘And sure enough, we heard a shuffling 


178 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


down the steps, and the light of the candle 
came through the keyhole, the door was 
opened, and we stepped in. 

u ‘.While I gathered up the knitting, Sarah 
showed Zed Granger the fifty dollars, and 
gave him the note which Philip Starkey had 
written and signed ; and without a word, Zed 
took out his old pocket-book, found the check 
for seventy-five dollars, and gave it to her. 
She opened it, saw it was payable to Sarah 
Petticord, took up the pen which lay there, 
dipped it in the ink, and wrote her name 
across the back of it, thanked Zed, and in 
less time than it takes to tell it we were out 
of the gate and on our way home. 

u 1 Before we parted at my door Sarah 
asked me to go to Dorton bank with her the 
next morning. I said I would go, and she 
called in her carriage for me, and we had the 
check cashed, and she had her hundred and 
twenty-five dollars all ready to give in to the 
missionary society the same afternoon. 


COLLECTING FOli MISSIONS. 


179 


“ 1 Sometimes, Matilda Atheling/ said Sister 
Slocum, in conclusion, 1 1 cannot help thinking 
that Sarah Petticord has the gift of looking 
into the future. Said she to me that night 
when we were walking up the road with the 
check : 

“ 1 u I wouldn’t have been so persecuting 
even in such a good cause as this if it hadn’t 
been partly for Zed Granger’s own good. I 
knew he had the money and could wel] spare 
it ; and if he once gets in the way of giving, 
it will be better for him and better for his 
family ; it will, in a manner, help Christianize 
him.” ’ 

“And so, Dorcas, I heard the whole story 
from Sister Slocum, and went home con- 
tented; and the next day had reason to 
know that Sarah Petticord was right in re- 
gard to her opinion on that subject, as she is 
in everything; for I saw Mrs. Granger on her 
way home from D orton in their old-fashioned 
carriage, in which were rolls of muslin and 


180 


WHAT I TOLD DOBCAS. 


other things for which the family had been 
suffering. 

“I couldn’t help stepping to the gate to 
speak to her; and she told me that Sarah 
Petticord, as secretary of the missionary so- 
ciety, had the evening before sent a messenger 
with the vote of thanks which the members 
had given Mr. Granger for his liberal dona- 
tion. And she looked happier than I have 
ever seen her since she came to live among us 
from the far West, a poor, timid little creature 
among strangers, with her home that dreary, 
shaded house, and her life-companion Zed 
Granger. 

“ A new light was in her eyes and a more 
cheery ring in her voice; and as she drove 
away and I returned to the house, I thought 
to myself, 'Well, Sarah Petticord, you cer- 
tainly are giving a lift to home missions by 
making an effort to Christianize Zed Gran- 
ger; he is surely awakened, and I hope he 
won’t have a relapse.’ 

u There ! the horn is blowing for afternoon 


COLLECTING FOB MISSIONS. 


181 


service, and I am real glad I got this chance 
to have a nice long talk. Come to see me 
soon, for I want to tell you of the people who 
came to pass the evening at David’s while we 
were there. Come real soon, Dorcas.” 


CHAPTER IX. 

MRS. ATHELING’S INDIAN MISSIONARY. 

“You couldn’t have come at a better time, 
Dorcas, for I got a letter this afternoon which 
makes me so happy that I must share my joy 
with somebody; and Philemon has gone to 
town and won’t be back until late, so I can’t 
share it with him. 

“ You know that Philemon and I take great 
interest in the Christianizing of Indians, and 
we feel richer for every scrap of information 
we get of the poor creatures. 

“Well, while we were at David’s that Mon- 
day evening after the Quakers’ Yearly Meet- 
ing, their doctor’s wife, Mrs. Dale, called to 
spend the evening, for she is a great friend 
of David’s wife. She brought her niece, Alice 
Fleming, with her, and later Dr. Dale came to 
182 


TEE INDIAN MISSIONARY. 


183 


go home with them; and he and Philemon 
and David were talking together, and David’s 
wife and Mrs. Dale, and this left Alice and 
me to each other; and I never passed a 
pleasanter evening with a stranger. 

u She wasn’t much of a talker, hut somehow 
she had a knack of keeping me talking, and 
she made me feel that I was saying the right 
thing in the right place and to the right 
person. 

u Well, we got to talking about the Indians, 
and I told her about Philemon and I going 
to visit the Indian school at Carlisle; and I 
never saw a person take more interest than 
she did. 

u I told her how our hearts went out to the 
poor creatures who had been driven from 
pillar to post by our nation ; and I told her 
of my thoughts about them, and Philemon’s 
thoughts, and said if we were as young as we 
once were, and were competent to teach, we 
would go out among the poor creatures and 
do what we could to help them. 


184 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


u The evening passed away too soon, and 
Dr. Dale and liis wife rose to go j and I told 
Alice Fleming that I was real sorry they were 
going and I should see her no more, for I 
should have let her talk more about herself 
and her interests in life, instead of telling her 
what Philemon and I were doing and think- 
ing. I somehow felt that she had a history, 
and that whatever she might have said of her- 
self would have been interesting j and for the 
second time I said I wished I could know 
more of her, for she was one of the most at- 
tractive creatures I ever met — not beautiful, 
but a face one could not forget. 

II So when she saw that I was really sorry, 
she said : 

II I Dear Mrs. Atheling, you have no need 
to be, for you have put new thoughts in my 
mind, and I will strive to make use of them j 
and I will write to you and tell you the little 
there is to tell of myself.’ 

“ So here is her letter, and I know you will 
enjoy it : 


THE INDIAN MISSIONARY. 


185 


“ ‘ Dear Mrs. Atheling : Are you a no- 
body! If so, you, and you alone, can have 
affinity with one who, according to the opinion 
of the majority of her fellow-creatures, never 
has been of any use in the world; one of 
whom nothing has ever been expected; one 
who has always felt herself as one too many 
in the home circle, and who, in spite of her con- 
firmed belief that whatever is is right, has, until 
the past few years, pondered the question why 
she was placed in the world, seeing that there 
appeared to be no special place or w r ork for her. 

“ ‘ I am one of five daughters, two older 
and two younger; therefore not looked up to 
as were my elder, nor petted as were my 
younger, sisters. 

“‘We were orphans, in charge of the 
widowed sister of my father, Aunt Hope, 
who had made her home with us after the 
death of our mother. 

“ ‘ My mission — if I had one — in the earlier 
part of my life was to wear out the garments 
which my elder sisters had outgrown. 


186 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


u 1 One might suppose that I was of some 
use as a finisher, but upon reflection would 
perceive that had I not been in the way the 
clothing would have served well for the 
younger ones, for whom new had of neces- 
sity to be bought. So thoroughly was the 
thing done that not a vestige descended to 
them, but was always a candidate for the rag- 
bag in advance of a new supply. As I never 
romped and never did any domestic work it 
was a mystery to all concerned how I man- 
aged to get through two sets; and when I 
look back at the question, it is quite as much 
of a mystery to me. 

“ 1 As it was, I not only fell heir to what 
was cast off, but misfits were found to be 
plenty good enough for “ poor stupid Alice n ; 
and if, by chance, I was seen wearing a new 
garment of any kind, the conclusion could 
have been honestly drawn that it had been 
intended for one of my elder sisters. 

“ ‘ Once, however, the rule worked the other 
way, and a new bonnet which had actually been 


THE INDIAN MISSIONARY. 


187 


made for me, from a piece of ruby velvet given 
me by my aunt Dale, was found to be u a world 
too large ” ; and as it just fitted one of my elder 
sisters, and was extremely becoming, it was 
ruthlessly taken from me and bestowed upon 
her, without one sympathizing word for my 
bitter disappointment. And yet, why should 
I have expected sympathy, when I never by 
word or look expressed any feeling upon the 
subject, but wore the old bonnet without a 
murmur ? 

u 1 The district school being near our home, 
Aunt Hope accompanied me the first day of 
my appearance there, for the purpose of in- 
troducing me to the teacher, Miss Preston, 
and putting me under her care. 

u 1 u Alice is very backward in her studies, 
is indolent, and cares little for books,” was my 
aunt’s recommendation to the teacher’s good 
will and favor. 

u 1 u Has she never attended school ? ” said 
Miss Preston, in surprise. 

u L u Never j she has always been under the 


188 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


instruction of the governess who was em- 
ployed for her elder sisters. Now that they 
have finished, there is no need to employ her 
longer j so Alice comes to school.” 

“‘“Has thee any objection to telling me 
thy age!” inquired Miss Preston, turning 
kindly to me. 

“ ‘ “ Fifteen years and six months,” replied 
I, promptly, with a thrill of pleasure that she 
considered me capable of speaking for myself, 
therefore not quite a fool. 

“‘“We will get along beautifully together, 
I doubt not,” said Miss Preston, turning again 
to my aunt, who introduced other subjects in 
which she took more interest. 

“ ‘ I, in the meantime, sat quietly beside 
her, gazing at the bonnets and hats hanging 
upon pegs near the door, and at the new tin 
bucket and cup with which the thirst}^ squad 
were supplied with water — thinking of noth- 
ing in particular, but much in general. 

“ ‘ “ So thee cares little for books ! ” com- 
mented Miss Preston, deprecatingly, when my 


THE INDIAN MISSIONARY. 


189 


aunt at length took her departure. “What 
does thee care for ? ” 

“ ‘ My spirits sank at the inquiry. 

“ 1 “ I do not know/’ I replied, despondently. 

“ 1 “ Does thee like to sew, crochet, or do any 
kind of fancy work ? ” 

“‘“No; my elder sisters sicken me with all 
that.” 

“ 1 “ Does thee like to sweep, dust, or cook ? ” 

“ 1 “ No ; the two servants do all that j the 
cook will not have me in the kitchen.” 

“ 1 “ Does thee love pets, and take pleasure in 
feeding them and attending to their wants ? ” 

“ <u No; my younger sisters claim all the 
pets, and attend to the chickens and other 
poultry.” 

“‘“Does thee love music, painting, statu- 
ary, flowers ? ” 

“ ‘ “I love flowers,” replied I, hesitatingly. 

“ ‘ “ Thee means me to understand that thee 
loves to work among them $ to sow the seed ; 
to watch the tiny shoots spring above the 
brown earth $ to weed them and water them 


190 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


when the earth is dry, and protect them from 
the glaring heat of summer and the frosts of 
winter ? ” 

“ 1 “No, I don’t mean any of those things,” 
I replied. “ I love to see them in bloom, and 
to inhale their perfume when they are tall 
enough so that I can do it without taking the 
trouble to stoop.” 

“ 1 Miss Preston raised her eyes, clasped 
her hands, and uttered a faint exclamation, 
of which I did not exert myself to catch the 
meaning. 

“ ‘I do not remember that she questioned 
me any more that morning; in fact, if I re- 
member rightly, I was left to my own devices 
the rest of the day. I frequently caught her 
gazing upon me with an expression not un- 
kindly; and when I returned the glance, she 
answered with a pleasant smile. 

“ 1 My thoughts were occupied with study- 
ing the physiognomy of my fellow-pupils, 
one, in particular, exciting my rather latent 
curiosity by his, to me, singular request, 


THE INDIAN MISSIONARY . 


191 


given in an earnest, businesslike tone of 
voice : 

ulu Please, Miss Preston, may I go to 
sleep ? 77 

“ ‘ The teacher glanced at the tiny clock 
which stood upon a shelf over her desk, and 
replied, pleasantly : 

“ 1 “Yes, thee can take thy nap, Benjamin, 
after which I hope thee will commit perfectly 
to memory the three lines of multiplication 
table which I wish thee to recite before noon . 77 

“ 1 The words had scarcely reached the boy 
when he folded his arms upon the desk, 
dropped his head upon them, and in two 
minutes he was asleep. 

“ ‘In less than a quarter of an hour he 
awoke bright and alert, and attacking his task 
with vigor, repeated it without one mistake. 

“ 1 When the pupils were dismissed for the 
morning, and were rushing out of the school- 
house door, I was the last to leave my seat ; 
and while listlessly tying my bonnet-strings, 
was accosted by Miss Preston. 


192 


WHAT I TOLD DOB CAS. 


“ I noticed that my management of Ben- 
jamin attracted thy attention,” said she ; “ and 
to a new pupil it calls for a word of explana- 
tion. Benjamin is a bright, energetic boy, 
but his nature seems to crave the refreshment 
of sleep at least twice during the day. Like 
the great Napoleon, he has the power of 
sleeping at will ; and as he amply makes up 
for lost time, I deem it best to grant his re- 
quest ; and it has ceased to attract the notice 
of any but new scholars.” 

“ ‘ This, I reflected in after years, was the 
key-note of Miss Preston’s success as a 
teacher; she studied the character and re- 
quirements of her pupils with a conscientious 
interest equaled by none whom I have met 
before or since. 

“ ‘ The morning of my second day at school 
I reached there before any other pupil, and 
found Miss Preston alone at her desk, read- 
ing, in the clean, quiet room. 

“‘It was early in the autumn, but the 
mornings were cool, and a wood-fire crackled 


THE INDIAN MISSIONARY. 


193 


and sparkled in the old-fashioned tin-plate 
stove. The rows of wooden pegs were as yet 
without the accustomed bonnets and caps, 
and the new, bright tin cup was turned top 
down upon the inverted bucket. 

u 1 Outside in the sweet morning air rustled 
the dry blades of the corn which was stacked for 
husking in a field adjoining, while the birds 
whistled and chirped in the great oak and 
hickory trees which shaded the school-house. 

u 1 “ I am glad thee has come so early, 
Alice,” said Miss Preston, rising to meet me. 
“I have been thinking of thee, and would 
like thee to tell me something about thyself. 
As thee knows, I have but lately come into 
the neighborhood, and I know nothing about 
my pupils only as I study them for myself. 
Now, is thee really serious in saying thee does 
not care to do anything 1 ” 

u ‘“Nothing that is going on around me,” 
I replied. u I want to climb mountains, cross 
oceans, creep down into the heart of the earth, 
encounter dangers, have hairbreadth escapes ; 


194 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


I want to do something, be somebody. O Miss 
Preston, I feel sometimes as though I were in 
an iron cage with no room to turn.” 

“ i Miss Preston did not chide me as Aunt 
Hope & Co. would have done; she did not 
rebuke this outburst by even a frown; in- 
stead, she took my hand, her eyes full of 
tears. 

“ ‘ “ I fear thee has been reading cheap 
novels, my dear child,” she said. 

“ 1 “ No ; Aunt Hope will not let them come 
into the house; besides, I have no taste for 
them.” 

mu Thee is not the first and only one who 
has felt restless and longed for a change. 
But can thee not take comfort in doing the 
duty nearest thy hand and trusting God to 
give thee a broader field in His own good 
time?” 

“ 1 “ But I have no duties, as I told you yes- 
terday,” said I. “They all say I am of no 
use, and they are right ” 

“ 1 “ But thee has enough to do for the 


THE INDIAN MISSIONARY. 


195 


present in acquiring an education that will 
fit thee for a position and thus enable thee to 
secure one.” 

“‘“My governess told me that, notwith- 
standing I was the younger, I was far in ad- 
vance of my sisters, although I appeared to 
study so little. She told me privately, before 
she left, that she could teach me no more. 
Aunt Hope only sends me here to get me out 
of the way.” 

“ ‘ “ Thee really astonishes me. Thy aunt 
said thee cared little for books, and I sup- 
posed thee knew so little that I was loath 
to question thee before younger pupils, so 
resolved to see thee alone to-day.” 

“ ‘ “ I long for something different to do — 
something that will give me trouble to study 
out.” 

“ ‘ Miss Preston did not reply, for at that 
moment the door opened and two little pupils 
came pattering in, followed by others, and I 
went to the desk which had been assigned me. 

“ ‘ At recess Miss Preston had a visitor — a 


196 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


cousin named Edward Preston, to whom, as 
I had not gone out with the others, she intro- 
duced me. He had just left college, was tall 
and stately like Miss Preston, and was the 
handsomest man I had ever seen. 

11111 Alice,” said Miss Preston, after I had 
offered him my hand and then blushingly 
withdrew it, remembering that it was not 
etiquette on first presentation, u Edward is 
an amateur phrenologist ; perhaps he can give 
us a little light upon the subject we were 
discussing.” 

u ‘ I had heard much of this phrenology ; it 
was in fashion in my mother’s day in our 
rural neighborhood, and had revived, as old 
fashions will, after many years. Everybody 
was discussing it, generally in terms of de- 
rision 5 but Miss Preston had asked it as a 
favor to herself 5 I had commenced to adore 
her, and signified immediate assent. 

u 1 Following her direction, I removed the 
net from my hair, which, freed from restraint, 
fell in long glossy waves to my waist. It 



ALICE FLEMING AND EDWARD PRESTON. (Page 196.) 



4 




















* 































































THE INDIAN MISSIONARY. 


197 


was my one beauty, and I kept it in splendid 
condition. 

“‘Mr. Preston’s firm white hand glided 
gently over it, and after a few minutes’ 
silence he said : 

“ ‘ “ Has thee ever attempted the study of 
languages ? ” 

“ ‘ “ No, sir,” was my reply. 

“ 1 “ Thee should make the effort j if I am 
not much mistaken, thee has a wonderful 
talent in that direction 5 I never saw an organ 
more fully developed.” 

“ 1 1 clasped my hands in ecstasy ,♦ my face 
flushed, and tears of joy sprang to my eyes. 
Miss Preston and her cousin smiled, and for 
the first time in my life I saw glances of 
admiration bent upon me. 

“ ‘ “ Edward, thee is to pass the winter with 
us j perhaps thee would not object to giving 
her lessons in Latin, by way of an experi- 
ment ? ” said Miss Preston. 

“ 1 “ It would be a charming pastime for 
me,” replied he, turning to me, “and I will 


198 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


give thee a lesson to-day if agreeable to 
thee.” 

“ ‘ And so it was decided that I was to stop 
with Miss Preston on my way home from 
school in the evening, after gaining my aunt’s 
consent at noon. 

“‘As I had surmised, her consent was not 
difficult to gain; and when we reached the 
comfortable homestead of the Prestons we 
found Mr. Edward ready, his books on the 
table before him ; and the very happiest hour 
I ever spent was taking my first lesson in 
Latin. 

u 1 Like one in a happy, happy dream, I 
passed on my way home, and found my uncle 
and aunt Dale, who had come from the city 
where I met you, and where I now reside, to 
pay us a visit — the first since my mother’s death. 

u i For the first time in my experience I did 
not feel awkward and constrained, but went 
quickly forward, kissed my aunt, shook cor- 
dially my uncle’s hand, and told them hoW 
heartily glad I was to see them. 


THE INDIAN MISSIONARY. 


199 


u i u Why, she is a fine-looking girl ! ” I 
heard my good-hearted, blundering old uncle 
say as I was leaving the room to put away my 
bonnet and books. “ I don’t think she is so 
homely.” 

u 1 The emphasis upon the pronoun left me 
in no doubt that my appearance had been the 
subject of discussion, and the verdict was 
evidently unfavorable ; but even that was 
powerless to dampen my spirits. 

“ 4 Every evening I called at the Prestons 
and took a Latin lesson ; my improvement 
was rapid, and I was happier than I ever 
imagined it possible for me to be. 

11 1 One evening, upon my return from 
school, Aunt Dale called me to come up to 
her room, as she had something to tell me. 

u i u We expect to leave you in a few days, 
Alice,” said she, kindly, u and your uncle and 
I have been revolving a plan which I am to 
tell you. We think of going to Europe in the 
spring, to remain at least three years. I 
would like to be of some benefit to my name* 


200 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS . 


sake and my only sister’s daughter, so we will 
take yon with us if you will go. We expect 
to visit all places of interest, but will remain 
for the most of the time in Germany and the 
northern part of Italy. I saw Miss Preston 
last evening — she called here while you were 
out; she says your progress in Latin is 
phenomenal. Do you think it possible to 
acquire enough German and Italian in six 
months to make yourself understood ? It would 
be of great advantage to us all if you could j 
but of course, whether or not, we wish to have 
you go with us.” 

“ 1 Truly, this world was becoming to me a 
place of joyful surprises. What could I say, 
when I had sufficiently recovered myself, but 
that I would make every effort to learn the 
languages, although I could not in my be- 
wilderment see how it could be done without 
a teacher. 

11 ‘ But Miss Preston was my good genius ; 
she had a friend who had resided for years as 
governess in a German family, and spoke the 


THE INDIAN MISSIONARY. 


201 


language perfectly ; and slie promised to see 
her on my behalf. 

“ ‘ Mr. Edward knew something of Italian, 
and wished to know more j so we agreed to 
study it together. 

“‘So, this problem being happily solved, 
my aunt Hope agreed that I should give up 
several studies and devote more time to the 
languages $ and the winter passed quickly and 
pleasantly away. 

“ ‘ The first week in June found us upon the 
ocean, sorry to part with my home and rela- 
tives, sorry to bid adieu to Miss Preston and 
Mr. Edward, but happy in the enjoyment of 
realized hopes. 

“ ‘ Three years in Germany, France, and 
Italy perfected me in the languages of those 
countries, and I returned glad of my acquire- 
ments, and glad to be back in my native land, 
especially as my home was to be with Uncle 
and Aunt Dale until Edward Preston claimed 
me for his wife in fulfilment of the promise 
made to him before we went abroad. 


202 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ 1 The next week after meeting with yon, 
Edward and I were united j and since our 
marriage he has been appointed to an Indian 
agency which was first suggested to my mind 
through your earnest sympathy for them and 
their wrongs. 

“‘We are intending to organize a school 
and Sunday-school among them, in the man- 
agement of which we will both share ; and I 
shall have the opportunity to master a new 
language in order to be the efficient teacher 
and missionary I hope to be ; and Edward is 
fully satisfied that I shall acquire it as easily 
as I have done the others. 

“ 1 And now, at length, it appears that I am 
to be of some use in the world, and in a field 
not crowded with laborers ; and Edward and 
I go forth with earnest, happy, united hearts 
upon our mission. 

“ 1 Should any one ask if I believe in 
phrenology, or, in other words, that the char- 
acteristics of the mind are manifest to the 
sense of touch through the medium of bumps 


THE INDIAN MISSIONARY. 


203 


upon the cranium, I should answer, as my 
friends affirmed I answered the majority of 
questions in my younger days, “ 1 don’t 
know.” But should they ask me if I consider 
encouragement a motive power in developing 
latent ambition, and helpful Christian com- 
panionship such as yours an incentive to well- 
doing, I should reply with all the energy of a 
happy heart, “ Yea, verily ! ” ’ 

“Well, Dorcas, when I read that letter I 
just clasped my two hands in thankfulness 
and said, 1 Praise God, from whom all bless- 
ings flow;’ and had scarcely uttered it when 
Satan was on hand to discourage me. 

“ 1 Now, Matilda Atheling,’ said he , 1 you are 
the most conceited creature on earth. You take 
all the credit to yourself of making an Indian 
missionary ; whereas, if you believe that these 
things are intended to be from the beginning, 
as you are so fond of quoting, that girl would 
have been a missionary without your encou- 
ragement.’ 


204 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“Well, for a minute my gladness was 
dampened 5 but I sent up another little 
prayer, and then said, 1 Get thee hence, 
Satan ! It was intended from the beginning 
that Alice Fleming should be a missionary, 
and it was also intended that I should put the 
thought into her head. 7 Then I took up my 
knitting, at peace with myself and all the 
world” 


CHAPTER X. 


THE DOLL THAT AFTERWARD BECAME A 
MISSIONARY. 

“ I am really glad, Dorcas, that you came to 
me for flowers to decorate the school-room for 
your coming entertainment. 

“ I will let them stay uncut until you are 
leaving, and in the meantime we will sit in 
the arbor in the garden, for it is too lovely to 
sit indoors. 

“There is an easy rocking-chair already 
there, and I will take this one, and we will be 
comfortable. 

“ I was wishing to see you, to tell you of a 
new member I hope to get for our missionary 
society ; and as you would never guess who it 
is, I will tell you — it is Mrs. Zedekiah Gran- 
205 


206 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


ger 5 yes, truly, it is Zed Granger’s wife ; and 
I must tell you how it came about. 

“One evening I was coming home from 
Primrose’s, where I had been passing the 
day j and you know the nearest way is 
through Granger’s woods, and I ventured to 
take it, although everybody knows he is so 
cross-grained and stingy that he looks upon 
any one crossing any part of his farm as a 
trespasser. 

“ It was a lovely evening ; the birds were 
making the place jubilant with their vesper- 
songs, and the air was sweet with the odor of 
May-apples and wild-flowers. I had reached 
that cool, beautiful spring of water in the 
heart of the woods when who should I see 
poking among the bushes with a long stick 
but Mrs. Granger; and I knew in a minute 
that one of her turkey-hens had stolen its 
nest, and she was hunting for it. 

“ Well, I laid my bonnet and parasol on the 
log beside the spring, and helped her search ; 
and after a little while I found the nest with 


A MISSIONARY DOLL. 


207 


a beautiful lot of eggs. And then we sat on 
tlie log and talked ; for, as Zed wouldn’t have 
an idea how long it might take her to find the 
nest, and consequently would not sneer, as 
the old tyrant always does if there is the least 
excuse, she was not only willing, but eager to 
stay. And you don’t know, unless you happen 
to talk with her when Zed is not present, 
what excellent company she is. 

“She told me all about her home and 
people in the far West, and of her first meet- 
ing with Zed, and of her next younger sister 
being a missionary ; and really, the lines left 
her face when she was telling of those happy 
days, and she looked young and pretty in the 
soft, mellow sunset, with a background of 
deep-green foliage shading her. I always had 
a warm, sympathizing feeling for her, on ac- 
count of her monotonous, dull life; but she 
was so shy I could never get acquainted with 
her, especially as we met so seldom ; but since 
that evening by the spring I really love her, 
because she is so innocent, so good and kind 


208 


WHAT 1 TOLD DORCAS. 


and unselfish. Her name was Jennie Hasson, 
and her father was a coal-burner, who, with 
her mother and a large family of brothers 
and sisters, all younger than herself, lived in 
a cabin upon a few acres of land which he 
had cleared from the forest in Kansas. 

“With all their hard work, the Hassons 
were unable to secure more than the neces- 
sities of life; but they were God-fearing 
people, were contented in the sphere in which 
He had placed them, and were struggling to 
teach their children the best they could under 
very adverse circumstances. 

“Life was not without its pleasures, par- 
ticularly to the children. The great, dewy, 
homelike forest close at hand, vocal with the 
song of birds, fragrant with wild-flowers, and 
filled with innocent animal life, was always 
restful and refreshing to Jennie, who some- 
times toiled beyond her strength in aid of the 
hard-working mother. In this forest the 
children played the greater part of each day, 
and in summer’s heat or winter’s cold its 


A MISSIONARY DOLL. 


209 


treasures were laid at their feet; they were 
kings and queens, and the forest was their 
realm. It furnished herbs for their mother’s 
simple store of medicines, squirrels and 
rabbits for their table, besides berries, nuts, 
wild grapes, and plums. Oh, it was a loving 
foster-mother to the little ones, and they 
loved it as only children can. 

“Well, Dorcas, she said that in those days 
the one longing of her life was to possess a 
doll — a real store doll, with flaxen hair, and 
eyes that could open and shut. Her mother 
had, in some comparatively leisure hour, 
made her one of rags, and her father had 
with charcoal drawn upon its white-muslin 
face very pretty features indeed. She loved 
it, but could not forget her aspiration; and 
strange to say — for Mrs. Granger looks upon 
it almost as a miracle — the doll came, not 
only with the curls, and eyes that could open 
and shut, but under proper pressure could 
say ‘papa’ and ‘mama.’ With such accom- 
plishments, it was not a matter of surprise 


210 


WHAT I TOLD DUllCAS. 


that it required a cy clone to bring it ; yet such 
was the case — a storm which uprooted forest- 
trees and spread desolation far and wide. 

“That morning in April had been warm 
and cloudless, and the younger children had 
played in the forest until noon, and were tak- 
ing their after-dinner nap. Jennie had been 
helping her mother; then she went to the 
creek in the forest to catch some fish for sup- 
per. After a time the rumbling of thunder 
was heard, and an ominous stillness was 
followed by a roaring sound which caused 
Jennie to spring to her feet in affright, for 
she knew a cyclone was at hand. She started 
to run for the shelter of the cabin, when she 
heard a voice, and, turning, saw a lady pale 
with excitement coming toward her. 

“ 1 Dear child/ the lady said, 1 1 am frightened 
almost to death. I was gathering wild-flowers 
and ferns when I heard the thunder ; I tried 
to get out of the forest, but I took the wrong 
way, and have no idea where to go for refuge 
from the storm.’ 


A MISSIONARY DOLL. 


211 


“ 1 Come with me/ said Jennie, grasping 
her hand ; 1 our cabin is not far away ; but we 
must run for our lives/ 

“They had not a moment to lose, for the 
terrible din was following them, which, having 
heard, no one ever forgets — the swirling roar 
of the wind, the musketry of hail, the crash- 
ing of falling trees, the booming of thunder, 
and the deluge of rain. But they reached the 
cabin and sank breathless upon the floor, 
while the angry tempest, as though despising 
such poor prey as the humble abode, swept 
on and left them safe and unharmed. 

“ ‘ Praise God, from whom all blessings 
flow ! 7 exclaimed the lady, as she rose to 
her feet, with tears streaming from her eyes. 
‘You have saved my life, little girl; for if 
the trees had not fallen upon me, nor the hail 
killed me, I should have died of fright alone 
in the forest. Tell me what I can do in return 
for your great kindness to me/ 

u 1 She wants nothing, I am sure , 7 said the 
mother; for Jennie remained silent, though 


212 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


thinking of a doll. c Take a seat and rest 5 
yon look very pale and ill.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, I feel faint, and shall have to walk 
home — or at least to my cousin’s house, where 
I am spending the day — for they do not know 
where to send the carriage for me.’ 

11 1 Where does your cousin live.? Maybe 
Jennie could go and tell them,’ said Mrs. 
Hasson. 

“ 1 1 cannot direct you from here, for I do 
not know in the least where I am. But my 
name is Mrs. Meredith, and I live in East- 
brook; and this morning drove over to Mrs. 
Livingston’s, where the ladies of our mission- 
ary society have met this afternoon to pack 
a box of dolls to send to heathen children in 
India. While waiting for the ladies to assem- 
ble, the thought came to me that a bouquet 
of wild-flowers pressed in a book would be a 
pleasant reminder of her own country to our 
young lady missionary there, so went out to 
gather it. I intended keeping upon the edge 
of the forest, that my cousin’s house might be 


A MISSIONARY DOLL. 


213 


in view, but saw so many beautiful specimens 
tliat I wandered on and lost sight of it j and 
when the storm came on so suddenly I grew 
bewildered and lost my way.’ 

“Well, Dorcas, Mrs. Granger said that at 
the word ' dolls ’ her heart throbbed with de- 
light, and her face flushed so deeply that she 
was afraid Mrs. Meredith would notice it. 

“ 1 1 know where Mrs. Livingston lives/ said 
she 5 ‘I will run through the forest and tell 
her you are here.’ 

“'You dear, good child,’ said the lady, 
kindly, 1 you are a friend indeed ; but it must 
be a long distance, and you are trembling with 
excitement.’ 

“Before the words were fairly uttered, 
Jennie had flown upon her errand. The 
storm was entirely over, and the sun shining 
brightly. Birds were singing, raindrops were 
sparkling like diamonds upon grass and 
foliage, and the air was redolent with wood- 
land scents. Over the trunks of some fallen 
trees, and around the branches of others, 


214 


WHAT I TOLD DOIiCAS. 


Jennie sped. And while she was gone Mrs. 
Meredith had a quiet talk with Mrs. Hasson, 
the result of which was that when Jennie re- 
turned in a carriage — the first she had ever 
been in — a clean apron was in readiness for 
her, and with some other little changes in her 
appearance she was in readiness to accept 
Mrs. Meredith’s pressing invitation to accom- 
pany her to Mrs. Livingston’s, where the 
ladies were already assembled. 

“ Oh, the dolls, the dolls, the dolls ! What 
a glimpse of fairy-land it was to the delighted 
eyes of Jennie! She crossed her hands on 
her faded gingham apron, and with tears run- 
ning down her cheeks looked from one to 
another. Large dolls, small dolls, lady dolls, 
baby dolls, walking dolls, talking dolls ; some 
looking careless and happy, others hairless 
and cappy. Dear, dear ! she said that never 
in her whole life had she had such a joyful 
surprise. And then the dresses ! — silk, satin, 
and velvet of every shade, with fleecy white 
robes by way of contrast. 


A MISSIONARY DOLL. 


215 


“Afterward she remembered seeing Mrs. 
Meredith and the others hold a consultation 
over the large box in which the dolls were to 
be packed ; but she never suspected the sub- 
ject of it, and watched each beauty wrapped 
carefully in tissue-paper and put in; and 
when all were secure in their places except a 
large and beautiful one on the piano, she had 
scarcely time to wonder why it was left out 
before Mrs. Meredith put it in her arms and 
told her it was hers; and she was so be- 
wildered by the unexpected joy that she 
could only look at the beautiful thing in her 
arms in silence. But the ladies understood 
her emotion, though they did not know that 
the possession of such a doll had been nearly 
a lifelong wish. 

u When Mrs. Meredith was ready to return 
to Eastbrook she took Jennie and her doll in 
the carriage, and went somewhat out of her 
way to leave her at the cabin, where she had 
another chat with the mother, and again 
thanked her for her kindness. 


216 


WHAT I TOLD DOIICAS. 


“ The doll in its pink-satin robe was truly 
an inspiration to the little Hassons, and had 
its mission, being an incentive to neatness 
and goodness — a view of it as it lay in the 
mother’s bureau-drawer being the reward for 
well-doing, and for any extra goodness the 
privilege of holding it in their arms for a 
little while. 

“Mrs. Meredith’s thoughtfulness did not 
stop there; she saw that Mrs. Hasson and 
Jennie took interest in hearing of mission 
work, so she sent them all the interesting 
publications relating to it that she could com- 
mand; and Jennie and Julia were filled with 
the wish to become missionaries, although 
they never imagined that they would ever be 
capable, or that their mother could spare them 
to go to India as the young lady had done of 
whom Mrs. Meredith had spoken. 

“Time passed on, and a log school-house 
was built upon a clearing within walking-dis- 
tance of their cabin, and an uncle of Zed 
Granger, who was a trustee, wrote to him to 


A MISSIONARY DOLL. 


217 


come there and teach. Zed went $ and as it 
was the custom for teachers to board around 
at the homes of the scholars, he became ac- 
quainted with the Hassons ; and when Jennie 
was seventeen and he twenty years older, 
they were married, and came here. 

“No doubt he saw that she was competent 
and willing to work, and had the meek, pliant 
disposition so agreeable to one of his tyranni- 
cal nature ; and we may imagine the life that 
young creature lived, with no society but Zed 
and his stern father, the mother having died 
when Zed was an infant. 

“But Mrs. Granger made no allusion to 
anything of the kind ; she merely said that 
she had brought the doll, and it had proved 
just such a treasure to her children as it had 
been to her little brothers and sisters; and 
I know that had it not been for it, the little 
Grangers would have stood as poor a chance 
of seeing or owning one as did the children 
in the clearing. Like the little Hassons, they 
never surmised that such a lovely affair could 


218 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


be for every-day use, sufficient being the joy 
of knowing it was there, a 1 well-spring of 
pleasure ’ indeed. 

u Then Mrs. Granger told me of her sister 
Julia going as missionary to India through 
the help of Mrs. Meredith and Mrs. Living- 
ston j and then I spoke to her of our mission- 
ary society, and told her what we were doing 
and what had been done. 

u 1 Come and join us, dear Mrs. Granger, 
said 1 5 ‘ we shall be so glad to have you.’ 

“ Her face flushed, and she looked down at 
her faded calico dress. 

Ui I am afraid I could not do my share of 
giving,’ said she. 

11 1 Don’t think of that,’ said I ; ‘ give your 
presence ; there is so much encouragement in 
numbers.’ 

“ ‘Well, I will if I can,’ replied she, hesitat- 
ingly ; 1 when is your next meeting ? ’ 

11 1 Nearly four weeks off ; but to-morrow 
afternoon we are to meet at the parsonage to 
pack a box of clothing for the family of a 





WALKED THROUGH THE DAISY-GROWN MEADOW. (Page 219,) 





























* 
















































A MISSIONARY DOLL. 


219 


missionary in Nebraska; come and kelp us, 
Mrs. Granger.’ 

“ Deeply interested as she appeared to be, 
she was not willing to promise, so I did not 
press the question. Instead, I told her it 
was the missionary for whose assistance Mr. 
Granger had given the seventy-five dollars 
and Mr. Starkey fifty ; and that Mr. Granger’s 
money had been sent by check as soon as 
possible, and we in the meantime had been 
preparing the clothing. I added that the 
missionary’s wife was a niece of Sister Slo- 
cum, and that they had several children, one 
of them a little girl — a hopeless cripple. 
Then we arose, and in the beautiful twilight 
walked through the woods and the daisy- 
grown meadow, and parted at her gate. 

“Must you go, Dorcas! Well, I will cut 
the flowers, and am glad to have the chance 
to oblige you.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

MRS. granger’s contribution. 

“ Good-afternoon, Dorcas. It was very 
kind in you to invite me to tea this evening 
to meet yonr old friends, and I came early 
that I might have the time before they come 
to tell you of the box that was sent by 
our missionary society to the Nebraska 
missionary. 

“He wrote a letter to the society, which 
was read at our last meeting; and I asked 
Sarah Petticord to lend it to me, that I might 
bring it to read to you as promised. 

“ Serena wrote one to her aunt Slocum tell- 
ing her of their joy and gratitude for such a 
lot of excellent clothing, and told her all the 
particulars about its arrival. 

“We met at the parsonage, and had a fine, 
220 


MRS. GRANGER’S CONTRIBUTION. 221 


large store-box, and plenty of good, service- 
able articles to fill it ; for it appeared that after 
Zed Granger had given seventy-five dollars 
for missions, nobody was willing to give any- 
thing mean. Besides, Sarah Petticord had 
taken care to give them one of her practical, 
outspoken speeches the day we met and de- 
cided to make np the box of clothing; and 
judging by the quality of the garments given, 
people remembered it. 

“ ‘ If any of us/ said she, ‘ can spare some 
ready-made garments suitable for any mem- 
ber of the missionary’s family, it would save 
time and money to send them, and what is 
saved in that way could be invested in a pair 
of warm blankets for them ; but we must bear 
in mind that missionaries and their wives are 
gentlemen and ladies, and it behooves us not 
to insult them by throwing to them the cast- 
off clothes we would not wear ourselves. We 
will keep such at home for carpet-rags, and 
not run the risk of having to blush to 
acknowledge that we were the donors.’ 


222 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ There was no danger of not fitting tlie 
missionary, nor Serena, nor the children ; for 
Sarah had written to him to send the size of 
each. He sent his measure as taken by a 
tailor, and we were glad, for it had been de- 
cided that the fifty dollars given by Philip 
Starkey was to be used for buying him a suit 
of clothes and overcoat, while Zed Granger’s 
seventy-five was to be sent by check to use as 
he pleased. 

“ We did not mention to the missionary or 
any one else how Zed Granger and Philip 
Starkey happened to give that money ; it would 
do no good, and might do harm. Not even the 
other members of the society knew it; and 
unless Philip Starkey tells it — and I don’t 
think he will — it will never be known. 

“Well, just as I got to the parsonage that 
day, who should I see coming but Mrs. Gran- 
ger j so I waited, and we went in together, and 
she made no pretense of concealing that she 
Was glad not to have to go in alone. Every 
one was pleased to see her, and said so, with- 


MRS. GRANGER’S CONTRIBUTION. 223 


out betraying the surprise they felt that she 
came j and the minister’s wife gently removed 
her bonnet, and made her feel at home, as she 
does all who go there, and gave her a com- 
fortable seat. Mrs. Granger had a package 
in her hand, and kept it while she sat in a 
corner of the parlor watching them put the 
things in the box. 

“Well, Dorcas, when it was about half 
filled and there was a space in one corner in 
which nothing seemed to fit, Mrs. Granger, 
who sat on the edge of her chair as though 
waiting to see such an opportunity, came for- 
ward and put the package in my hand, and said : 

“ ‘ Maybe it will fill that place.’ 

“ ‘ What is it ? ’ I asked, in a low voice. 

“ ‘ It is my doll,’ said she, and she had tears 
in her eyes. 

“ ‘ Do you really intend sending it ? ’ said I. 
‘ Are you willing to part with it u ? ’ 

“‘Yes,’ said she, ‘in such a cause as this. 
It is for the little crippled girl, and you can 
tell her all I told you about it if you choose.’ 


224 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS . 


“ 1 May I take off the wrapper and look at 
it, and show it to the others f ’ said I. 

“ 1 If yon choose/ said she, and went back 
to her seat. 

“Well, -we all looked at it, and every mem- 
ber wanted to hold it a moment in her arms 
when I told them the history of it j and then 
they all thanked Mrs. Granger for her happy 
thought, for not one of them had brought 
a doll, or anything for the children except 
clothes. 

“ It had the sweetest face I ever saw, such 
as I imagine angels have — so fine and pure 
and innocent ; and its pink-satin robe was as 
spotless as though it had never been outside 
a bandbox. Sarah Petticord said she would 
write out the history of it for the crippled 
child, and send it in the letter that was to go 
by mail. m 

“Well, after the box was packed, and the 
lid with the address upon it nailed on care- 
fully, the minister’s wife said we must stay 
and take a cup of tea with her ; and all were 


MRS. GRANGER’S CONTRIBUTION. 225 


pleased to accept but Mrs. Granger, who ap- 
peared to have something on her mind which 
prevented her, yet longed to stay. So the 
minister’s wife did not insist too much, for 
she did not know but something disagreeable 
might happen at home, if she did not come 
when expected, to rob her of the pleasure it 
would have been to her to remain. 

“So Mrs. Granger went home 5 and as she 
bade each one good-by by shaking hands all 
around, we gave her a cordial invitation to 
visit us ; for we all have a warm feeling for 
the inoffensive, timid little woman. 

“ And now I will read the letter : 

“ ‘ Dear Friends and Helpers : I write in 
response to your kind and welcome letter 
which gave us the intelligence that you were 
contributing a box of clothing for us, our 
first words when we read it being, “How 
wonderful is the goodness of God to us ! ” 
Knowing that winter was close at hand and 
the bitter cold would be severe upon us, we 


226 


WHAT I TOLD DOliCAS. 


prayed for help, but had not the least idea 
from whence or in what way it would come. 
I have lost my horse, and had not received a 
cent of money from any source for months 
until your letter came with a check for 
seventy-five dollars, which I shall have cashed 
as soon as I can. I thank the dear, good 
friend, or friends, whose contribution it is; 
may they never know what it is to want for 
anything. It has been a lever to lift a bur- 
den from my heart, saving us from what was 
almost despair. We are in the midst of a 
wilderness, two hundred miles from the fron- 
tiers of civilization, and on the old hunting- 
grounds of the fierce Sioux Indians. The 
railway will soon reach our beautiful garden 
country. You need not look on the map to 
find us, for we are so young that no geog- 
raphy or map has acknowledged us, and in 
three months the name of our place has been 
changed three times, twice by the railway 
company. We have a collection of rough 
board shanties, a few tents, and some sod 


Jilts. GRANGER'S CONTRIBUTION. 227 


houses ; hut we number three hundred people, 
and when it is known that the railway com- 
pany will put up workshops at this point, 
people will rush in and we shall soon have a 
town. 

“‘We have no school-house nor church; 
there is not a church building in the whole 
county. We are holding services and our 
Sunday-school in a sod house about twenty 
by fourteen feet in size. A family of six live 
in the two small rooms. 

“‘We have met in this private house, with 
the glad consent of the owner, ever since we 
have been here, and happy seasons of worship 
we have had. We have hauled lumber fifty 
miles to put up a .church, which we expect to 
do as soon as the site for the town is sur- 
veyed ; then we will have a u bee ” to put up 
the building. 

u 1 The blizzards here are something terrible 
— no pen can describe them; but we have 
compensation in the fertile earth, the pure 
air, and the knowledge that we are fulfilling 


228 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


God’s command, “Go ye into all the world, 
and preach the gospel.” 

“ k As you kindly request, I inclose the 
measure for clothing for each of my family, 
and feel myself fortunate in having the 
measure given by my tailor before I left the 
East. Thanking you again for your benevo- 
lent and Christian thought of us, I am yours 
in the bonds of our Redeemer.’ 

“Well, the box reached there safely and in 
good time ; and Serena wrote a letter the very 
next morning to tell us so — a short one, be- 
cause she did not wish to wait a moment 
longer than necessary to inform us that it 
had been received; but she said that they 
would write a long letter in reply to the one 
which Sarah Petticord had written for the 
society. 

“But she did take time to tell the society 
of the joy of the crippled child over the doll 
sent by Mrs. Granger. Upon the day of its 
arrival she had asked to be propped up in a 


MRS. GRANGER’S CONTRIBUTION. 229 


chair by the one window of their home, that 
she might show it to the passers-by. And 
everybody halted to look at the beautiful 
thing, among them an Indian girl of about 
twelve years of age — a shy, wild creature, 
with tangled hair and ragged blanket; and 
it was wonderful to watch the change that 
passed over her swarthy features at the 
sight, so new and wonderful to her. The 
crippled child beckoned to her to come in, 
but the Indian shook her head in refusal. 
But by degrees she got nearer, then into the 
room; and after having washed her hands, 
and being willing to have a clean apron put 
over her blanket, she was rewarded by having 
the doll in her arms, which she rocked and 
crooned to like a fond mother, her glittering 
black eyes beaming with tenderness. 

“The next morning she was again at her 
post of observation, and was beckoned in by 
the crippled child, and made a proposition 
which Serena had been hoping for, being 
weak and weary : 


230 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


u 1 Me come work j help nurse doll.’ 
u So while Serena was writing, the young 
Indian girl, dressed in one of the gowns 
which the arrival of the box allowed being 
taken from the meager stock belonging to the 
elder daughter, was helping about the house, 
and, Serena has every reason to believe, will 
be willing for the sake of the doll to remain 
and learn the ways of civilization. 

“There come your friends through the 
gate, Dorcas. I am glad I got the chance to 
tell you this, and will tell them also, if you 
think it will interest them.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

A VISIT TO THE GRANGERS. 

“How d’ye do, Dorcas? I have been to 
Dorton to see Mrs. Chamberlain, who has a bad 
spell of neuralgia, poor creature ! and on my 
way back thought I must stop to tell you of 
Sister Tabitha’s visit, and to say how sorry I 
am that she happened to be here during your 
holiday and you were not at home to see her ; 
she would have so enjoyed seeing you. 

“ Only one little week could she give us this 
time — seven beautiful days, which Philemon 
and I live over and bear in our hearts. 

“ She talked with us of old times and new 
times, and of mission work — a noble subject, 
and of deepest interest to Tabitha. She has 
a happy way of thinking that all good work 
in this world is mission work, and that we 
231 


232 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


are all missionaries of some kind to some- 
body. She believes that to make people good 
they must be made as comfortable as possible ; 
and that it is our duty to be as happy and 
cheerful as we can, for our own sakes as well 
as for the influence it has over others. 

u Some people might think it very easy for 
a wealthy person like Tabitha to talk in this 
way, and that her opinion would change if 
she should happen to lose her property ; but 
we who have known her all her life know 
that she always was cheery, unselfish, and 
helpful, and, above all, sincere in word and 
deed. There was a little time in her life, she 
said, with a flush of embarrassed feeling at 
the remembrance, when she allowed the weeds 
of riches to crowd out the sweet flowers 
of love and charity and benevolence which 
should have filled her pathway 5 but she 
thanked God that He had put it into the 
heart of her dear brother Philemon to open 
her eyes to her failing, and she would never 
again look upon money save as something in- 


A VISIT TO THE GRANGERS. 


233 


trusted to her keeping for the benefit of those 
who needed help. 

“ She inquired for all the people she knew 
when a girl, and among them Zed Granger ; 
and somehow her heart went out in pity when 
we told her of the secluded, cheerless life he 
and his family were leading. 

u 1 He is not altogether to blame, Sister 
Matilda/ said she; ‘he had a dull, dreary 
home when he was a boy, and I think no 
pleasures of after life can compensate for a 
miserable childhood. He knew nothing but 
hard work on the barren farm which he has 
brought to productiveness; and his home, 
with its bare walls and carpetless floors, was 
desolate beyond description. His only so- 
ciety when there was his harsh, ill-tempered 
father and an ignorant old woman who served 
as housekeeper ; for his mother died before I 
can remember. 

u 1 His father believed that severity and 
mortification of the flesh was the only way 
to train children ; so Zed was forced to wear 


234 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


clothes to school that would have disgraced 
a beggar, and as he was one whose feelings 
never appeared upon the surface, the scholars 
took it for granted that he had none, and he was 
taunted and laughed at for what he could not 
help. 

“ 1 As he grew older he struggled hard for 
what education he has, sitting up at nights 
when his whole nature cried for rest and 
sleep, studying by the light of a tallow 
candle from the out-of-date books that his 
father used before him, and maybe his grand- 
father, for all I know to the contrary. Then 
when he had a call from his uncle to come 
out to a new settlement to teach school, his 
surroundings were, I suppose, no better nor 
more genial than while living until nearly 
middle age here with his father — almost as 
secluded as though in the heart of a wilder- 
ness. They avoided the world, and the world 
let them choose their own way of dealing 
with it ; but, Matilda, I think we were wrong ; 
a little seeking of them — a little attention — 


A VISIT TO THE GRANGERS. 


235 


might have made the old man happier while 
he lived, and might have benefited Zed. I 
would like to see him ; and knowing he will 
never call to see me, let ns ask Philemon to 
go with ns to pay them a visit this evening/ 

“Well, Dorcas, I was completely taken 
aback by this request. I wanted to do every- 
thing in my power to make Tabitha’s sojourn 
pleasant, but a visit to Zed Granger was not 
down on the program. However, I promised 
to go if Philemon were willing, having a hope 
at the same time that he would refuse. But 
no indeed ; he would have gone, if possible, 
to the ends of the earth with Tabitha, and to 
Zed Granger’s was but a short and pleasant 
walk. 

“ 1 But why do you want to go, Sister 
Tabitha ? ’ said Philemon. 

“ 1 Because our visit might do him a little 
good,’ said she. 

“ 1 Well, I misjudge if it is not more than it 
will do us,’ said I ; 1 but I am willing to go.’ 
And then I told Tabitha of my one visit there 


236 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


to collect money for the Bennetts, and she 
laughed in the way that used to make this old 
farm-house ring with merriment. 

“‘You certainly did not use much tact in 
the business, Sister Matilda/ said she. 

“ 1 No ; I saw that myself when Sarah Petti- 
cord tried another plan and succeeded. But 
he treated me better than he did one of our 
elders, who had it upon his conscience that 
Mr. Granger was not visited by the church 
people and invited to attend the services ; for 
Zed, when he found that to be his only 
errand, ordered him out of his house, and 
said the church did not want him so much as 
it wanted his money.’ 

“ 1 His whole previous life has unfitted him 
for appeals of the kind/ said Tabitha, dep- 
recatingly. 

“ ‘ But there had to be a beginning, Sister 
Tabitha, and none of us knew from what 
point to attack Zed Granger.’ 

“ ‘ You may be sure he is not happy/ said 
she; ‘lie is in discord with himself and the 


A VISIT TO THE GRANGERS. 


237 


world, and will remain so until lie comes into 
companionship with God and his fellow- 
creatures. In a dim, vague way he may he 
longing to he a Christian, and does not know 
that it is the simplest thing in the world, as I 
can say from my own experience. It is only 
doing right in the present, and letting the 
future take care of itself hy trusting in the 
Saviour. The way was pointed out to me hy 
dear Philemon/ said she, turning to him with 
tears in her eyes, 1 and I have found true 
happiness in walking in it. By becoming 
interested in missions, other needs were 
brought to my knowledge 5 I found life to 
he full of sweet duties, and time is all too 
short for what I long to do.’ 

“So we went to Zed Granger’s that even- 
ing j and although Mrs. Granger and the chil- 
dren had for a moment the dazed look they 
wore when Mary Slocum and Sarah PettiGord 
called, they soon recovered themselves; and 
she invited us into the best room, which ap- 
peared not to have been opened for years to 


238 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


the joyous sunlight, so dim and solemn it 
looked, as though waiting for some mournful 
event. 

“ Zed came in just as we had removed our 
bonnets and taken seats ; and Sister Tabitha 
jumped up and clasped his hand, and said she 
could not think of going back to Minnesota 
without seeing him, her old neighbor and 
schoolmate, with whom she had stood in the 
same class. So she and Philemon and Zed 
sat in a group and talked of old times; and 
Sister Tabitha took care to recall nothing 
unpleasant or sad, but only things which 
had transpired in the neighborhood to make 
people laugh at the time, and afterward when 
called to memory; and Zed’s stern face re- 
laxed, and he looked ten years younger than 
when he came in. Mrs. Granger and I had 
plenty of subjects to interest us, for that 
evening by the spring had made me ac- 
quainted with her and her family. She told 
me more of their lives on the frontier, and of 
her missionary sister, whose letters she was 


A VISIT TO THE GRANGERS. 


239 


willing should be read in the society • and all 
and everything she said was interesting, told 
in her simple, earnest manner, the children 
sitting by and listening, delighted in their 
timid way with visitors, and the privilege of 
staying up beyond their time ; for Zed was so 
entertained that he had forgotten them. 

“ After a time he brought some rare and 
curious coins for Tabitha and Philemon to 
see ; and while they were looking them over, 
he went out, and soon returned with a tray 
of cracked walnuts. They had been gath- 
ered from the tree which we had known from 
childhood, standing by the line-fence which 
divides the Granger meadow from the wood- 
land, and which bears the finest and largest 
walnuts I ever saw. While Mrs. Granger 
went for plates he took from an old-time 
bookcase a package of horseshoe nails and 
passed them around; and there we sat and 
chatted, and picked out the rich kernels with 
the horseshoe nails, and ate. 

u Yes, it was a little out of the way in the 


240 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


line of refreshments, but the kindness was 
the same, and proclaimed the awakening of a 
hospitable spirit in Zed ; and Sister Tabitha’s 
eyes shone with pleasure. 

Ul Nothing could please me better than 
these/ said she, sincerely ; 1 not only because I 
am fond of them, but because they call to mind 
the days when a large rock and a small one, 
a pile of walnuts, and a horseshoe nail were 
great elements in school-children’s happiness.’ 

“Well, we ate and talked; and when we 
had finished, and Zed carried out the shells 
and Mrs. Granger the dishes, Sister Tabitha 
whispered to Philemon and me : 

Ul Please invite them to tea to-morrow 
evening.’ And before we could answer they 
came in, and we joined in the conversation 
where we left off ; and I don’t know when we 
ever passed a pleasanter evening. 

u 1 Sister Tabitha can remain with us only 
a few days, Mrs. Granger,’ said I, as we arose 
to leave, ‘and you and Mr. Granger will be 
giving us all a great pleasure if you will 


A VISIT TO THE GRANGERS. 


241 


come over to-morrow evening to tea; come 
earl}", that we may have a good long evening 
to talk/ 

“ 1 Yes/ said Philemon to Zed, 1 1 want to 
show you some improvements I have made in 
my barn ; it is not so large and convenient as 
yours, but I am doing what I can to improve 
it ; come while it is light enough to see it/ 

“ Zed hesitated, and we thought he was in- 
tending to refuse, when Sister Tabitha came 
to the rescue. 

“ 1 Certainly he will come/ said she, in her 
bright, cheery way ; 1 you do not imagine that 
he would pay his old schoolmate such a poor 
compliment as to refuse, when she waived all 
ceremony and made the first call ? ’ 

“Then Zed promised to come, and Mrs. 
Granger’s pale face flushed with surprise and 
delight; and we walked out, gaily chatting 
until we reached the gate, and passed through, 
leaving Zed and Mrs. Granger standing there 
to see us off. 

“Well, the next morning, while I was 


242 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


making cake and preparing poultry to broil 
for supper, and getting out jelly and the 
glass dishes for peaches and other things, 
Sister Tabitha put fresh flowers in the vases 
in the parlor, and wrote notes in my name to 
Simeon Petticord and Sarah, and to Mary 
Slocum, inviting them to come to tea that 
evening, and hoping they could make it con- 
venient, as their failure to be present would 
be a great disappointment to Tabitha, whose 
stay would be but a few days. Then she put 
on her wraps and walked up to the village, 
and paid a boy to carry the notes to their re- 
spective places, that there might be no risk of 
having them stay in the post-office until too 
late for the invited ones to make arrange- 
ments to come. 

u And they all came, and a delightful time 
we had. Sarah Petticord is always to be de- 
pended upon to help a good work along $ she 
read at a glance our object in inviting Zed 
and Mrs. Granger, and no one in the world 
has more tact than Sarah in helping people 


A VISIT TO THE GRANGERS. 


243 


enjoy themselves ; and Simeon, in his honest, 
quiet way, is excellent company too. 

“ I had planned to have the supper in such 
a state of readiness — and the table already set 
in the dining-room — that it took but a little 
while to finish it ; so we women chatted in the 
parlor, while Philemon and Simeon and Zed 
walked over the place and sat in the orchard 
and talked. Philemon picked a splendid 
basket of our late peaches for each of them 
to take home, and Zed Granger told them 
more than they ever knew of the quality of 
the land on different farms in the neighbor- 
hood, and of the strata of sand or clay or 
loam on each which rendered them fit or un- 
fit for the raising of the various seeds or fruit 
which the farmers, who had not made the sub- 
ject a study, might try to make a success of. 

“Philemon said that at times he could 
scarcely realize that it was Zed Granger who 
was visiting him for the first time since they 
were boys, and was so unlike what he sup- 
posed him to be — so genial and companion- 


244 


WHAT I TOLD DOBCAS. 


able that Philemon felt sorry and ashamed 
that he had so misjudged him. 

“ Then they came in and we had supper, 
which all enjoyed ; and when we returned to 
the parlor, Sarah and Zed talked politics, and 
Simeon and Philemon laughed until tears 
stood in their eyes to hear her veer to the 
opposite side in order to carry on the argu- 
ment ; and I never knew there was any fun 
in politics until I heard Sarah Petticord 
discuss it. 

“We had a charming evening, for it was 
difficult at times to know who were listeners, 
even Mrs. Granger doing her share of talking, 
and enjoying herself thoroughly. 

“ When Sarah was about to go, she gave us 
all a pressing invitation to come there to tea 
the next evening. 

“‘Now don’t you and Mrs. Granger fail 
me/ said she to Zed, as she bade them good- 
night ; ‘ I find I am getting rusty on politics, 
and if I don’t talk with a good politician now 
and then I forget which side I am on.’ 


A VISIT TO THE GRANGERS. 


245 


“Zed could not help joining in the langh 
caused by her arch way of saying this, and 
he promised to go ; and it was not hard to see 
that Mrs. Granger would have been disap- 
pointed had he refused. 

“ Then Mary Slocum, not to be found want- 
ing in a good work, gave us all a cordial invi- 
tation to tea for the evening following; and 
as Zed could not well refuse after promising 
Sarah, even if he had wanted to, he said they 
would come, and we saw that Sister Tabitha’s 
visit was the success she intended it to be. 

“Of course we went to Sarah Petticord’s 
the next day, and found Mr. and Mrs. Gran- 
ger already there $ and Simeon took Philemon 
and Zed over the farm, and they sat upon 
a log in his beautiful woods and talked, Zed 
bearing his share in the conversation, and 
listened to with the respect his opinions de- 
served. 

“ Then they walked through the orchard, 
and I saw them standing under the very 
apple-tree where I had in childhood thrown 


246 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


two apples, out of each of which I had 
taken a bite 5 and an old colored woman 
living with the Cassimeres made me eat them, 
that I might, as she said, grow up a 1 keerful 
Chrissian woman.’ 

“ Sarah had forgotten the incident, but re- 
called it to memory when I mentioned it, and 
we laughed over other anecdotes of poor old 
Rosy. 

“ Altogether we had a beautiful visit to the 
old Cassimere home, and w~e parted with the 
promise of meeting the next afternoon at 
Mary Slocum’s, which we did 5 and of the 
three visits that was the cap-sheaf. Sister 
Tabitha reaped what she had sown in see- 
ing Zedekiah Granger interested in helping 
others 5 for Sarah Petticord read the mission- 
ary’s letter aloud to them, and also the one 
Serena had written the next morning after 
the box was received, and no one listened 
more attentively than Zed — it was all so new 
and strange to him. And when he heard with 
what delight the doll had been welcomed by 


A VISIT TO THE GRANGERS. 


247 


the crippled child, and fonnd that it was Mrs. 
Granger who sent it, he turned and looked at 
her with the only tender look I ever saw on 
his face in my whole life. 

“And when it came time for us to separate 
we all noticed that Zed helped Mrs. Granger 
down the steps and offered her his arm ; and 
as they went down the beautifully moon-lit 
road we looked at one another — Philemon, 
Tabitha, and I — and all had the hope and 
belief that a reign of love and peace and good 
will to men had commenced in the heart of 
Zed Granger .’ 7 


CHAPTER XIII. 

SARAH PETTICORD AT THE COMMITTEE 
MEETING. 

“ Come right in, Dorcas, and take a seat. I 
am real glad to see yon, for I want to tell yon 
about our committee meeting at Deacon Prim- 
rose’s last evening, and how Sarah Petticord 
let the deacon express his opinions ; for yon 
know he is inclined to be censorious, al- 
though he would not knowingly say anything 
to injure any one. 

“ But he has gotten into the way of censur- 
ing folks who don’t agree with his opinions, 
and poor little Mrs. Primrose is only an echo 
of what he says. 

“Philemon and I haven’t done laughing 
yet over the bewildered look he cast upon 
Sarah when she gave in her report, while she 
248 


BUILDING A CHAPEL. 


249 


sat there as sweet and cool and placid as 
Sarah Petticord — and yon cannot go any 
further than that. 

“Well, to begin at the beginning. You 
know that our church is getting too small for 
the congregation, or, what is nearer the case, 
the congregation is getting too large for the 
church • so we have concluded to take down 
the dividing- wall between it and the Sunday- 
school room, and throw it all into church, 
which would leave us without a place to hold 
missionary meetings and Sunday-school. 

“So we held several committee meetings, 
and concluded to build a chapel j and several 
of us women of the congregation have been 
out collecting for it, and we are in a fair way 
of having a place for lectures and missionary 
meetings and the like 5 and last night we 
met to report. 

“ It was a little late when Philemon and I 
got there, and business began directly, Hetty 
Primrose, the deacon’s cousin, acting as sec- 
retary. 


250 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


a Tlie first one to give in her report was 
Sister Slocum, and I must say it was a good 
one. She is a master hand at collecting, is 
never in a hurry, is always cheerful as a 
cricket, and somehow people think times are 
not so hard as they thought, and give to her 
when they won’t give to anybody else. 

“ She took Zedekiah Granger’s for her place 
to call ; and I could scarcely believe my ears 
when she reported that he had promised the 
lumber for the building if some other neigh- 
bor would have it hauled, and he let Mrs. 
Granger promise a carpet for the new chapel, 
and we all agreed that of all surprises that 
was the greatest. 

“Sister Slocum gave for her share the 
window-shades, and said she would board 
the carpenters free of charge, which was 
doing well. 

“My place was Joel Hollingsworth’s; and 
although they are Quakers and don’t be- 
lieve in hireling ministry, I knew that Ethel 
wouldn’t be contributing to the missionary 


BUILDING A CHAPEL . 


251 


society every month since the afternoon I 
called there and not help get ns a place to 
meet. And I wasn’t disappointed in my cal- 
culations, for all I had to do was to mention 
that we wanted to build a chapel, and I was 
on the collecting committee, and I didn’t go 
away empty-handed by a great deal. 

“Deacon Primrose gave the iron fence 
around the chapel, which was being built on 
paper, and Mrs. Primrose gave the lamps. 
Hetty Primrose’s place was Philip Starkey’s. 

“ ‘ Have you asked old Zed Granger for a 
contribution ? ’ inquired he. 

“‘Yes,’ said Hetty; ‘Sister Slocum called 
there, and he agrees to furnish lumber for 
the whole building.’ 

“ Philip just stared at her, and then he said : 

“ ‘ Do you mean it ? ’ 

“ And she said she did. 

“ ‘ Well,’ said he, ‘if Zed Granger promised 
that, it is done to spite somebody ; he knows 
I have lumber and could give it easier than 
money, so he wants to cut me out.’ 


252 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


u 1 But you can give windows and doors and 
shutters/ said Hetty j 1 we shall need them as 
much as the lumber.’ 

11 So Philip agreed to give them. 

“ Hetty told me this after the committee 
meeting, and Philemon and I talked it over as 
we walked home ; and somehow we felt that 
the chapel was going to help bridge over hard 
feelings, when two who were enemies had 
agreed to furnish all the wood between them. 

“Well, to continue with the committee 
meeting. Philemon agreed to give half the 
chairs for the new chapel, and Simeon Petti- 
cord the other half, and to pay for the plaster- 
ing; and Sarah Petticord would pay for the 
painting. I promised a Bible and hymn- 
books, and told them of David’s wife writing 
to me to say that Dr. Dale’s wife would furnish 
the pulpit ; and others gave what they could. 

“ So you see we have made a first-rate be- 
ginning ; for the day the corner-stone is laid 
we shall have a collection, and the day the 
chapel is dedicated another, and I shouldn’t 


BUILDING A CHAPEL. 


253 


wonder if when we have our first missionary 
meeting in the new chapel it will be free of 
debt from basement to steeple. 

“ Well, they had all given in their reports 
except Sarah Petticord, and she was just 
about to give in hers when Deacon Primrose 
remarked that the whole congregation, so far 
as heard from, was willing to contribute for 
a new chapel, except the Widow Benson. 

“ c Yes, ’ said Mrs. Primrose, ‘I wasn’t the 
one appointed to call upon her, but I saw her 
in a store in Dorton last evening, and asked if 
she intended to contribute any money toward 
a new chapel, and she said she couldn’t see 
her way clear to contribute.’ 

11 1 Yes,’ remarked the deacon, 1 and I call 
that real unhandsome. She won’t sell the 
land to build the chapel on, and she won’t 
give any money.’ 

u 1 How do you know she won’t sell the 
land, Cousin Richard f ’ questioned Hetty. 

“ ‘ Because my wife sounded her about it 
last evening when she met her in Dorton, by 


254 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


saying that a committee was intending to call 
upon her to ask her to sell her corner lot for 
the new chapel ; and as far as my wife could 
gather from her answer, she won’t sell land 
for church nor chapel, nor any religious pur- 
pose whatever. Did she say anything to you 
about it, Hetty ? 7 

“ ‘Not a word; I wasn’t the one appointed 
to visit her, and did not consider it my busi- 
ness to question her, and shouldn’t have ex- 
pected an answer if I had so far forgotten 
courtesy as to ask her.’ 

“‘Well,’ remarked Squire Gildersleeve, 
whose wife is a great friend of Sister Prim- 
rose’s, 1 1 call it downright meanness that she 
won’t sell us that piece of land for the chapel. 
It is the very spot most suitable ; in fact, none 
of the lots that have been offered us for pur- 
chase would suit anything like as well. It is 
near the church, and has just enough land for 
a small yard and forest-trees for shade. I call 
it flying into the face of Providence to hold on 
to it as she does.’ 


BUILDING A CHAU EL. 


255 


“ ‘ Yes, she ought to feel it a privilege to 
give toward the building of the chapel, and 
sell us that lot/ remarked Deacon Primrose. 
‘She is president of the missionary society, 
and the chapel is for its meetings and for the 
Sunday-school to which all her children go, 
and they attend lectures when we have them. 
She ought to hold up for her profession, 
though I haven’t any call to think she 
would.’ 

“ ‘ And less for thinking she wouldn’t, 
Cousin Richard/ said Hetty Primrose. ‘ Mrs. 
Benson always gives according to her means, 
and no one should do more than that. The 
last call was for new books for the Sunday- 
school library, and her contribution was far 
more liberal than that of many others with 
double her means.’ 

“ ‘ But it appears to me that she wouldn’t 
be stinted any more in means by selling the 
lot at a fair price for the chapel. To be sure, 
she is business woman enough to know that 
if she holds on to it it might be wanted for a 


256 


WHAT I TOLD DOliCJS. 


bank or some other public building, and slie 
would get three times over more than we can 
give for it. But yet I think it is not accord- 
ing to her profession not to be willing to sell 
it for this purpose. Deacon Benson was a 
public-spirited man, and always gave to the 
church according to his means, and the Lord 
prospered him ; and I can’t see how it is that 
his widow is so narrow-minded.’ 

u 1 She is far from that, Cousin Richard,’ re- 
torted Hetty Primrose. 1 1 boarded with her 
when I taught the district school, and she 
is anything but narrow-minded and unchari- 
table.’ 

u 1 Cousin Hetty always gets so excited if 
she don’t have her own w r ay,’ remarked Sister 
Primrose, rocking placidly to and fro in her 
creaking rocking-chair. 1 She can’t deny that 
the whole Benson family dress well, and must 
spend considerable in that way.’ 

“ ‘ They always look well because they are 
so deft with their needles,’ said Hetty, turning 
to her. 1 Garments which less energetic people 


BUILDING A CHAPEL . 


257 


no better off than Mrs. Benson would throw 
aside, she and her daughters turn and press 
and dye, thus freshening them that they look 
new/ 

“‘Yes, I know they are master hands at 
that, and for that reason they ought to have 
more to give for the building of the chapel/ 
said Sister Primrose. 

“ ‘ Her daughters are away at boarding- 
school/ said Mrs. Gildersleeve ; ‘she might 
have saved there to help with the chapel/ 
“‘Yes, her daughters are preparing to be 
teachers/ replied Hetty, ‘ and Mrs. Benson is 
intelligent enough to know that the truest 
economy is to send them to the best seminary 
within her reach and means/ 

“ ‘ Mrs. Benson raises a great deal of poul- 
try/ continued Mrs. Gildersleeve, ‘and sells 
pounds upon pounds of chicken; it appears 
to me that she might at least give some of 
the profit to help build the chapel. If it was 
myself, I would give all of it/ 

“ ‘ So would 1/ said Mrs. Primrose. 


258 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ ‘ Does Cousin Richard give all the profits 
from his iron- works ? 7 questioned Hetty. 

“‘No, Hetty/ said Sister Primrose ; ‘but 
there is a great deal of difference between the 
profits of the iron business and a few hens . 7 

“ ‘ I should say so/ remarked Hetty. 

“ And, Dorcas, Philemon and I have been 
smiling ever since at the way Sister Primrose 
looked puzzled as to which side Hetty was on. 

“ ‘ I don’t calculate that she gives more than 
she can help/ remarked Deacon Primrose. 

“ ‘ Don’t she give to all the different objects 
of church work whatever she agrees to give ? 7 
questioned Hetty. 

“ ‘ Yes, of course she does/ said Squire 
Gildersleeve ; ‘she does what she promises, 
but that is no more than her duty . 7 

“ ‘ Does she ever neglect to give on Sundays 
for the current expenses of the church? You 
are one of the collectors and should know/ 
said Hetty, turning to him. 

“ ‘ Now I am called upon to think of it, I 
believe she does always give/ said he; ‘but 


BUILDING A CHAPEL. 


259 


that don’t excuse her from helping to build the 
chapel, which she would have as much use of 
as any of us would.’ 

“ ‘ 1 have heard that she is a master hand 
at setting a good table,’ remarked Sister 
Primrose ; ‘ she might save there to help give 
to benevolent objects.’ 

“ ‘ She does give good board,’ replied Hetty ; 
‘but if you were boarding there, would you 
consider that it was her duty to stint in 
quantity and quality, that what was saved 
might be given to charitable objects?’ 

“ ‘Well, that is neither here nor there,’ in- 
terrupted Deacon Primrose. ‘ If I were Mrs. 
Benson, it seems to me I could see my way 
clear to give something toward helping along 
with the chapel. But my wife asked her if 
she wasn’t going to contribute to the building 
of it, and understood her to say that she could 
not afford to give money or materials. If she 
would give the fastenings for the shutters, 
or a lock for the door, or the putty, even, it 
would be something j but to give nothing to- 


260 


WHAT 1 TOLD DORCAS. 


ward tlie chapel is certainly narrow-minded 
and unhandsome.’ 

“ ‘ If she said she could not afford it 
you should believe her/ said Hetty Primrose ; 
‘Mrs. Benson would tell nothing but the 
exact truth.’ 

“ ‘ It is well she has such a great friend to 
take her part/ remarked Sister Primrose ; 
‘but I don’t see that there is any call to get 
angry over it.’ 

“ ‘ I am not angry, but I like justice, and I 
don’t consider that you are just to Mrs. Ben- 
son; for if she feels she cannot give toward 
the building of a chapel, I know her well 
enough to be certain that it is more of a 
cross to her to withhold her help than it is to 
you not to receive it.’ 

“ ‘ Maybe she does do the best she can/ 
remarked Squire Gildersleeve ; ‘I for one 
don’t wish to blame her for what she can’t 
help.’ 

“‘Mrs. Benson’s benefactions are known 
only to herself and family/ said Hetty Prim- 


BUILDING A CHAPEL. 


261 


rose, ‘ and are not confined to church nor sect. 
She would scorn to be held by narrow-minded 
restrictions, but, in everyway that God points 
out, gives to the poor and afflicted, and, what 
is more, does not proclaim her benevolence 
from the housetops. Of the good she does I 
could tell you numberless instances ; many a 
simple pleasure she denies herself, that she 
may give to the poor and afflicted.’ 

“‘Well/ said Deacon Primrose, dryly, ‘I 
suppose we must take the will for the deed, 
and let somebody else be asked to contribute, 
to make up for what she refuses to give. Let 
me see — are all the reports in ? ’ 

“ ‘ You haven’t had mine,’ said Sarah Petti- 
cord, speaking for the first time. 

“‘Well, Mrs. Petticord/ said the deacon, 
‘give in your report, and Hetty can write it 
down if her ruffled feelings will let her.’ And 
he looked around at the rest of us and smiled 
a not very amiable smile. 

“ ‘ I had but one place to call,’ said Sarah 
Petticord, ‘and that was to see Mrs. Benson 


262 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


and ask her for a contribution. She gives as 
her share the corner lot which the committee 
wish to buy, and will have the deed made out 
according to law.’ 

“Well, Dorcas, you might have heard a 
pin drop ; there wasn’t a word said for a long 
time, and at last Sister Primrose was roused 
up to defend herself, as it were. 

“ ‘ Why, she said she wouldn’t sell land for 
church nor chapel, nor any religious purpose 
whatever,’ said she, reddening like a cabbage- 
rose. 

“ ‘ Nor is she doing it now,’ replied Sarah 
Petticord ; 1 she is giving it fully and freely as 
her contribution.’ 

“‘Gives it! Well, I never!’ said the 
deacon, like one dazed; while Squire Gilder- 
sleeve and his wife seemed to be reflecting, 
and trying to call to mind what they had said 
of Sister Benson. 

“As Philemon and I walked home we 
couldn’t help laughing over the way the 
deacon looked, and how the whole company 


BUILDING A CHAPEL. 


263 


kept glancing at him and Sister Primrose 
and at Squire Gildersleeve and his wife. 

“ When we were sitting by the lamp, Phile- 
mon said, 1 Matilda . 7 

“ Said I, ‘ Well ? 7 

“ ‘ The deacon made a mistake — that is cer- 
tain. It is the easiest thing in the world to 
be mistaken, Matilda ; you found that out the 
time you claimed the speckled hen . 7 

“Now, Dorcas, that speckled-hen affair has 
been a standing joke with Philemon ever 
since it happened, and I will tell you how it 
came about. The day that I called to see 
Ethel Hollingsworth and she agreed to be- 
come a contributing member of our mission- 
ary society, while she was cutting the roses 
for me a flock of chickens came by the porch, 
and I could not help saying that they were 
the prettiest I ever saw; for they were so 
curiously marked : they were a beautiful 
brown, with every feather tipped with white, 
and had full topknots. 

“‘Well, Friend Matilda , 7 said Ethel, ‘thee 


264 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


shall have one of those speckled hens as a 
memento of thy first call to see me.’ 

“And sure enough, that very evening one 
of their people came over with a speckled hen ; 
and I had all ready to send back by him a pot 
of my Easter lilies, for I knew nothing would 
please Ethel more. 

“I never had anything that I set more 
store by than that speckled hen — she was 
such a beauty. 

“ One afternoon I had just taken my knit- 
ting to sit in the shaded porch, when I heard 
a great fluttering and cackling and tramping, 
and went to see what was the matter; and 
what should I see but a woman running 
wildly about my beautiful yard, grabbing for 
my speckled hen in real earnest ; and before 
I could stop her she caught it. 

“ ‘ Oh,’ said 1 , 1 just see what you have done 
— trampled down grass and flowers to catch 
my hen.’ 

11 1 Faix, an’ it’s not your hen,’ said she, her 
face as red as Are with her stooping and 



GRABBING FOR MY SPECKLED HEN. (Page 264.) 
















































































* 

































































































BUILDING A CHAPEL. 


265 


scrambling about; ‘it’s mine, an’ Pm bound 
to have her.’ 

“‘Your hen? 7 said I, in astonishment. 
1 Indeed it is not, and you shall not take her ; 
it was given to me by a friend, and is the 
only one I have that is so curiously marked/ 

“ ‘ If it's the last word I have to spake, 
ma’am/ said she, ‘ it’s my little Tim’s hen ; it 
flied out of his arms as we was goin’ past here 
in the wagon ; yonder it is on the hill, waiting 
for me. We are moving, ma’am.’ 

“I looked up the road, and sure enough, 
there was a wagon, and a boy was looking 
from it. 

“ 1 Well,’ said I, trying to calm my feelings, 
‘ the speckled hen is mine, but I will not 
quarrel about a chicken ; you can take her.’ 

“ 1 1 mean to take her/ said she, ‘ for I am 
taking nothing but my own. It’s sorry I am 
that you want to claim her, but it would 
break the heart of little Tim to part with 
her ; she is the only pet he has.’ 

“Well, she had reached the gate with the 


266 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


speckled hen, when she turned to me, her 
eyes sparkling with joy, and said she : 

“ ‘ There is your speckled hen coming 
around the corner of the house.’ 

“And sure enough, there she was ; and 
when we looked at them together we couldn’t 
have told, to save our lives, which was Tim’s 
and which was mine. 

“‘Well,’ said I, ‘I am real glad; hut I 
really was sure it was mine, because it is the 
only one I ever saw like it except at Joel 
Hollingsworth’s.’ 

“ ‘ And sure,’ said she, ‘ it was Miss Ethel — 
bless her sweet face — that gave little Tim the 
eggs; and when they hatched, the chickens 
were white except this one, and little Tim 
claimed it.’ 

“ So we shook hands and parted ; she went 
up the hill to Tim, and I sat down again in 
the porch to my knitting. 

“‘Matilda Atheling,’ said I to myself, 
‘maybe it would be quite as well not to 
be so sure you are the only one who could be 


BUILDING A CHAPEL. 


267 


in tlie right the next time yon are called 
upon to express an opinion, for it is the 
easiest thing in nature to be mistaken.’ 

“ But it has done Philemon so much good 
that I am really glad it happened.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


SISTER TABITHA’S TEMPERANCE MISSIONARY. 

“Good-evening, Dorcas. I have brought 
my knitting, and will stay with yon until 
Philemon calls for me on his way from the 
church council, which meets at the parsonage 
this evening. 

“I have been wanting to see you again 
ever since Sister Tabitha left us, to tell you 
some of the new and stirring things she told 
us when we were sitting about our parlor 
fire. We have not been at a loss since for 
subjects to think and talk about ; and I said 
to Philemon this morning at breakfast that a 
visitor like his sister was a blessing for which 
folks couldn’t be too thankful. 

“Well, what I have in mind to tell you is 
something that Philemon and I cannot get 
out of our minds, and don’t want to; and 
268 


TAB ITU A ’S TEMPERANCE MISSIONARY. 269 


knowing you are a great temperance woman 
and will make good use of the story — which 
is as true as preaching — I want to tell you, 
so you can pass it on, maybe among the 
young people under your care. 

“ You see, Sister Tabitha’s husband had a 
cousin named Helen Atherton — a sweet, pretty 
girl, who had learning and accomplishments, 
and became a great belle in society. When her 
parents died, her mother’s brother, Dr. Wag- 
ner, took her to his home, and she was as his 
own daughter. He was a widower, and there 
was no company most of the time for Helen • 
but she was as contented as could be in the 
elegant home managed by the good house- 
keeper and the faithful old servants. 

“ She wasn’t there but a few months when 
her uncle fell ill, and a trained nurse was 
brought from the hospital to wait upon him. 

“ One day, when Helen was sitting by his 
bedside, he said : 

“ 1 Helen, I sha’n’t get well, and while I am 
able to talk I must tell you my plans for you.’ 


270 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“The nurse was going to leave the room, 
but he made a sign for her to stay. 

“ 1 Helen/ said he, 1 1 have made my will, 
and have left all my property to you on con- 
dition that you remain unmarried, or unite 
yourself in marriage only with one who is a 
total abstainer from all intoxicating drinks. 
If you fail to comply with these conditions, 
the property will be divided among distant 
relatives whom I have never seen. I wish 
you now to promise me that you will receive 
attentions from no young man whom you 
know, or even suspect, touches the wine- 
cup/ 

“Helen promised, and Dr. Wagner thanked 
her for giving him that comfort. 

“‘I was afraid you would think me too 
exacting/ said he ; 1 but it is only my love for 
my only sister’s only child that prompts me 
to try to save you from a life of misery. O 
Helen, in my long years of practice among 
all classes of people, I have seen so much 
anguish from the use of intoxicating drink 


TABITHA’S TEMPERANCE MISSIONARY. 271 

that I shudder to think what may be your 
fate. There is no creature on this broad 
earth so forlorn, so helpless, so pitiable, as a 
wife, mother, sister, or daughter at the mercy 
of a drunkard. For, Helen, neither law nor 
society protects such unfortunate women ; 
and many as lovely and loving as you have 
suffered abuse, and even death, at the hands 
of those who promised to cherish and protect 
them. 7 

“Well, Helen promised again, and then 
her uncle told her that he had appointed his 
friend Dr. Fortescue as her guardian, and 
she was to live in his family until she was of 
age, and then could choose a home for herself. 

“So when her uncle died she went home 
with Mrs. Fortescue, who was rejoiced to 
have her; for she had no daughter, and 
Helen would be pleasant company for her 
only son, who would soon come home from 
Europe, where he had been graduated as a 
doctor ; and she knew that a young girl in the 
house would make it more cheerful for him. 


272 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ Well, young Dr. Hartley came home, and 
his stepfather — Dr. Fortescue — took him into 
partnership with him, and they were all happy 
and glad ; for he was a fine, handsome young 
man, and a great favorite in society. The next 
year Helen went into society, and he was her 
escort whenever he could leave his patients, 
which was not very often; for he was liked 
by everybody, and had a large practice. 

“About the end of the second year Helen 
was engaged to be married to him, and the 
time was set for the wedding, and Mrs. For- 
tescue made great preparations for a grand 
reception, and the young couple were to go 
to Europe upon their wedding- journey. But 
all through that summer and fall Dr. Hartley 
didn’t seem like himself. He didn’t get up 
until the middle of the forenoon sometimes, 
and was cross, and hadn’t any appetite; and 
his mother said he was working too hard, 
and longed for the time to come for his trip 
across the sea. 

“The invitations were out, and Helen’s 


TABITHA’S TEMPERANCE MISSIONARY. 273 

beautiful wedding-dress all ready, when Dr. 
Hartley fell ill : and Helen advised his mother 
to send for Sister Marjorie, the nurse who 
had waited upon her uncle. 

“When she came, the minute she set eyes 
on the young man she knew what was the 
trouble j but she didn’t say anything, but at- 
tended to him faithfully. 

“ That night she went to the basement for 
ice, and when she came back he was deathly 
sick. 

“ 1 Dr. Hartley/ said she, 1 you are killing 
yourself with strong drink, and are now on 
the verge of delirium tremens.’ 

“ 1 Since when did it become the business of 
attendants to lecture their employers ? ’ asked 
he, in a haughty tone. 

“ ‘I consider it the duty of even attendants 
to try to keep any one from ruin,’ said she ; 1 it 
is in my capacity as nurse that I warn you.’ 

“ ‘ You forget yourself,’ said he, 1 and I for 
one will thank you to attend to your own 
affairs.’ 


274 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ ‘ No, Dr. Hartley, I don’t forget ; nor do 
others forget that Miss Helen must give up 
her property if she marries a drunkard, and 
that is what you are. You drink only at 
night, and that is why your poor mother and 
Miss Helen do not suspect you. They must 
be told the truth.’ 

“‘If you don’t promise me to keep it a 
secret from Helen you shall not leave this 
room alive,’ said he. And he rose from the 
bed and tried to steady himself upon his 
feet. 

“ ‘ Lie down this minute,’ said Sister Mar- 
jorie, sternly, ‘before you fall, and I have to 
call somebody to help me lift you.’ 

“Just as this was said they looked around, 
and his mother was standing in the door; 
and she came in with a face as white as if 
she were dead, and sank upon her knees by 
the bed, upon which he had fallen. 

“ ‘ 0 my son, my only boy,’ said she, trem- 
bling and faint, ‘tell me that this terrible 
thing is not true.’ 


TAB IT HA’S TEMPERANCE MISSIONARY. 275 


“‘Now, mother/ said he, in a stupid way, 
‘ don’t worry about me j I am all right.’ 

“ ‘ 0 Ralph, how could you bring this ter- 
rible anguish upon me, and upon that sweet 
girl who so loves and trusts you! Oh, the 
chance for happiness you have trampled under 
your feet ! — for she will never marry you.’ 

“ ‘ Oh yes, she will, never fear ; I will soon 
be over this spell, and will be’ a credit to 
you. I am only nervous and can’t sleep — 
that is all.’ 

“ ‘ Tell me where you keep the wretched 
stuff,’ said his mother, ‘that I may remove 
the temptation out of your reach.’ 

“ ‘ He keeps it in the corner of the clothes- 
press/ said the nurse, ‘ and every time I leave 
the room he drinks.’ 

“His mother went to the clothes-press to 
take out the bottles. 

“ ‘Let them alone ! ’ he yelled; and taking 
up a cut-glass goblet, he hurled it at her. It 
missed her, but she fell fainting to the floor ; 
and the nurse half lifted, half dragged her to 


276 


WHAT 1 TOLD DORCAS. 


her room, and stayed by her till she came to 
herself. 

“ ‘ I shall have to tell Helen ! I shall have 
to tell Helen ! She must know that my idol- 
ized boy is a drunkard/ she moaned; and 
you may imagine what it cost her to say this 
about her only son. 

“Well, the nurse went back to the sick- 
room ; and during the time she was out the 
poor miserable creature had taken another 
drink, and was too sick to know or care that 
his mother was suffering for his sake. 

“When morning came, Mrs. Fortescue had 
to take her place at the breakfast-table, where 
her white face frightened Helen. 

“ 1 0 Mrs. Fortescue/ said she, 1 1 know that 
Ralph is very ill, and you are keeping it from 
me. I must see for myself how he is.’ And 
she rose from the table. 

“‘No, dear, he is no worse than usual ; I 
would not go up now. The nurse will soon 
be down to her breakfast, and we will ask 
her what time will be better to go up.’ 


TABITHA’S TEMPERANCE MISSIONARY. 277 


u She had scarcely said this when the nurse 
was heard coining down the stairs ; and Helen 
met her at the door, and asked if it were a 
suitable time to go to the sick-room. 

“ ‘ As suitable as any, Miss Helen/ said the 
nurse, hesitatingly, and looked toward Mrs. 
Fortescue, who, seeing it could be put off no 
longer, rose to go with her. 

“ Dr. Hartley had taken another drink the 
moment the nurse was out of the room, and 
was deathly sick. The sight of him, the odor 
of the room, and the empty bottle which he 
was too intoxicated to hide, told the whole 
story ; and Helen sank into the nearest chair, 
too weak to stand. 

11 1 How dare you bring her here, mother ? 
You only did it to humiliate me ; I wish I had 
killed you . 7 And he grasped the empty bot- 
tle to throw at her; but the nurse wrenched 
it from his hand ; and, too wretched for tears, 
Helen, white and trembling, followed his 
mother from the room. 

“ 1 Our friends must be notified that there 


278 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


will be no wedding here/ said she ; ‘ onr en- 
gagement is broken. 7 

“ 1 O Helen/ said Mrs. Fortescue, throwing 
herself upon her knees before her, 1 don’t cast 
my boy off ! — it is too cruel. It will drive 
him to despair, and he will go down to ruin. 
What is the keeping of a fortune in compari- 
son with the loss of a soul ? He will reform — I 
know he will — if you will only be his wife. 7 

u 1 1 will not risk it, even if poor uncle’s 
dying request did not bar the way, 7 said 
Helen j 1 there will be no wedding here. 7 

“ 1 But oh, Helen, your influence as a good 
wife would save him. 7 

“ 1 If his love for me and knowledge of my 
promise to uncle has no power, my influence 
as a wife would be useless, 7 said Helen. 1 My 
heart aches for you — for us all 5 but I will 
marry no one who is not a total abstainer. 7 

11 So word was sent to all who had invita- 
tions, and Helen put away her pretty dresses, 
and nothing was said at home or abroad 
about it. When Dr. Ralph got over that ill- 


TABITHA ’S TEMPERANCE MISSIONARY. 279 

ness he pleaded with her to have faith in his 
word that he wonld never touch another drop 
of liquor ; and she encouraged him all she 
could to keep out of temptation, hut would 
not say she would marry him. 

“ Two years passed away, and Dr. Ralph 
hadn’t touched a drop of strong drink, and 
was the same skilful physician, and popular 
with all. He had joined a temperance society, 
taken a vow to ‘touch not, taste not, handle 
not/ and had kept it. That winter there was 
a revival in their church, and he was one of 
the converts. Then Helen did begin to have 
faith that he was really reformed, and prom- 
ised to marry him the week after he joined 
the church. His mother’s heart was filled with 
joy, and she would have made preparations 
for a grand wedding, but Helen said she did 
not wish it. 

“ 1 Gaiety belongs to the past,’ said she ; ‘ I 
wish no one invited except our dear old pas- 
tor and his wife, and Cousin Tabitha.’ And 
thus it was agreed upon and decided. 


280 


WHAT I TOLD DOECAS. 


“ In the meantime Dr. Fortescue had some- 
thing upon his mind. He was an elder in 
the church; they used fermented wine, and 
he had never given the subject much thought. 
But now it was coming home to him, and he 
saw the danger of it as he never saw it be- 
fore, and determined to make an effort to do 
away with it, and use in its place the unfer- 
mented juice of the grape. He had a talk 
with the five other elders, separately and to- 
gether, and only two could be persuaded to 
come over to his way of thinking. He must 
have one more, and left no means untried to 
get him. But it was no use to plead ; they 
were joined to their idol of custom, and 
wanted no change. 

“ There was one little man among them 
who always followed where the others led; 
but that time he took a stand against all 
Dr. Fortescue’s persuasion, who went the very 
evening before communion to make one more 
effort. 

“‘It is a terrible temptation, brother, in 


TABITRA ’S TEMPERANCE MISSIONARY. 281 

tlie way of our young men/ said he, after 
using all texts to prove that the use of unfer- 
mented wine was not against Scripture. 4 If 
you had a son I am sure you would not he 
willing to have him so tempted.’ 

44 4 To my mind it is sacrilegious to believe 
that a sip of communion- wine could be looked 
upon as a temptation/ replied the elder. 

44 4 But, brother/ said Dr. Fortescue, 4 it is 
perhaps no temptation to you or to me or to 
many others j but we should have compassion 
upon those who are weak in that respect, re- 
membering the injunction 44 that no man put 
a stumbling-block or an occasion to fall in his 
brother’s way.”’ 

“‘A person so weak as that would not be 
safe anywhere/ remarked the other, dryly. 

44 4 1 believe that the use of fermented wine 
keeps many out of the church/ persisted 
l)r. Fortescue. 4 Those who have taken the 
vow of total abstinence cannot conscientiously 
take our fermented communion- wine.’ 

44 4 1 agree with the others that it is better 


282 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


to make no change. I am very conservative 
in my opinions . 7 

“Well, Dorcas, the time was wasted argu- 
ing with him. Dr. Fortescue could not win 
him over and thus have a majority, and the 
fermented wine was used ; and he saw with a 
sinking heart the gleam which came into the 
eyes of Dr. Ralph when its fumes reached 
him, and knew that the demon of the wine- 
cup had triumphed and was rejoicing over 
the broken pledge. 

“ That evening Dr. Ralph got brandy at a 
drug-store, and spent the night in beastly in- 
toxication ; and none can tell the anguish of 
Mrs. Fortescue and Helen. The engagement 
was again broken, and Helen, who felt she 
could remain no longer with the Fortescues, 
went to stay for a time with Sister Tabitha ; 
and she could not have gone to a more help- 
ful friend. 

“ We know the way to increase the good in 
the world is to lessen the evil ; and although 


TABlTEA’S TEMPERANCE MISSIONARY. 283 

Sister Tabitha did not say so, Philemon and 
I knew by many things she told us that she 
does all the good she can in the fashionable 
circle where her money places her. She is 
one who thinks that a Christian should not 
point to the cross with a frown on the face, 
and in her happy, cheery way she leads peo- 
ple to Christ. 

“ Through her influence many of her wealthy 
friends stopped putting wine on their tables, 
and in this way, at least, temptation was not 
placed in the way of young men. 

u 4 Help me to use my inheritance to assist 
inebriates to reform, if such a thing be possi- 
ble/ said Helen to Sister Tabitha j ‘ 1 wish to 
devote the rest of my life to that work/ 
u 1 Indeed it is possible/ said Sister Tabitha. 
And she told of the new treatment through 
which the poor victim of rum would lose all 
taste for the deadly poison. She gave Helen 
instances which had come under her own 
notice of noble, gifted, useful men who, under 


284 


WHAT T TOLD DORCAS. 


the dominion of the demon of strong drink, 
had lost the power and wish to reform, and 
there seemed nothing for them bnt a drunk- 
ard’s grave. But some good Samaritan had 
taken them in hand, and had aided them to 
receive treatment at one of these institutions, 
where they had lost all love for strong drink, 
and had become again honored and useful 
citizens, only those who have suffered as they 
and their families had suffered knowing the 
joy of their great deliverance. 

“ So Sister Tabitha encouraged her in every 
way. A large house with spacious grounds 
was bought by them, and in a short time was 
ready for patients — among the first being 
Dr. Ralph Hartley. 

“And, under that blessed treatment, he is 
cured — all love for strong drink is gone. He 
and Helen were married, and are making the 
reforming of the drunkard their life-work. In 
the garb of a deaconess Helen searches the by- 
ways for the tempted, the fallen, the almost 
hopeless victim of the rum demon, and is 


TABITHA ’S TEMPERANCE MISSIONARY. 285 


truly what Sister Tabitha aided her to be — a 
missionary of temperance. 

“ And now, Dorcas, I hear Philemon’s step 
on the porch, so I will roll up my knitting 
and go home. Come to see me soon 5 come 
the very first evening you can spare.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


MRS. ATHELING’S CHINESE MISSIONARY. 

“ Ah, there you are, Dorcas ! I was almost 
sure we would meet at this first lecture in our 
new chapel, and am glad we came early, that 
we may have a good talk before the people 
come. Just think ! it is finished and paid for, 
and I believe no one misses what they gave, 
because it was given to the Lord. The carpet 
which Mrs. Granger contributed is good and 
pretty, and we are all to meet here on Satur- 
day to make it, and hope you will be with us. 

“ And, Dorcas, I have a grand piece of news 
to tell you : Mr. and Mrs. Starkey are going 
to join the church, and Mrs. Starkey says that 
the missionary’s letter of thanks to her hus- 
band was the awakening cause. And Mrs. 
Starkey has joined our missionary society. 

286 


WORK AMONG THE CHINESE. 


287 


“ And now I must tell you of our visit to 
David’s. We went to lots of places, but what 
I enjoyed most was the Chinese Sunday-school 
and a missionary meeting where the subject 
was China and the Chinese. 

“ You see, for some time I have been think- 
ing often of those poor creatures, and one 
evening I was knitting and thinking about 
them, and Philemon was reading. After a 
while he laid his paper down and began paring 
an apple, throwing the parings into the fire. 

“ ‘ Philemon ! ’ said I. 

“ ‘ Weil?’ said he. 

“ ‘ I wish I could do something to help the 
poor creatures they call Celestials,’ said I. 
‘ If I could write for the papers, and editors 
would publish what I wrote, I could certainly 
help them.’ 

“‘Now, Matilda,’ said Philemon, ‘you had 
better let those Celestials alone. It is a very 
unpopular subject, Matilda— very unpopular ; 
and if you wish to make yourself unpopular, 
just you write or speak in favor of the Chinese.’ 


288 


WHAT I TOLD DOllCAS. 


“ 1 0 Philemon/ said I, 'women have no 
vote ; they can say what they please ; people 
don’t pay any attention to them.’ 

“ 1 Bnt I thought you wanted them to mind 
what you put in the papers,’ remarked Phile- 
mon, reaching for another apple. 

“ ‘ I want them to mind the Chinese,’ said I, 
‘ but they needn’t pay any attention to me. I 
am not running for office, so what need I care 
whether I am unpopular or not ? ’ 

“‘Well, then,’ said he, ‘what is it you are 
trying to get at ? ’ 

“ { Why,’ said I, ‘ I want to see the poor 
creatures Christianized; I am not talking 
from a political, but from a missionary point 
of view. The Chinese are as much heathen 
and worshipers of idols as those on “ Green- 
land’s icy mountain” or “India’s coral strand,” 
and it is our bounden duty to help them to 
worship the true God.’ 

“ ‘ Yes ; but, Matilda,’ said he, ‘ it is far 
more popular to send one man out there, at 
big expense, to convert the millions of China- 


WORK AMONG THE CHINESE. 


289 


men than it is to have a whole kit of them 
come here and be Christianized in a heap, 
and learn our ways and customs, and go back 
and Christianize their people. This is rather 
a quicker process, Matilda, but the lone mis- 
sionary at big expense is far more popular.’ 

“‘But, Philemon/ said I, ‘why isn’t it 
popular to want them to come? Hasn’t it 
been our boast that our free and glorious 
country is to be considered a refuge for those 
who choose to come ? ’ 

“‘Yes,’ replied Philemon; ‘but those gen- 
erous things were said before the Chinese 
were enlightened enough to want to come. 
We never mistrusted they would be, nor 
would they have been had it not been for the 
lone missionary. We had calculated only for 
Irish and Germans and an organ-grinder now 
and again, but never mistrusted that a horde 
of yellow Jacks would flock here and take 
the bread out of the Irishman’s and German’s 
and organ-grinder’s mouths.’ 

“‘They can’t take out what isn’t there, 


290 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


Philemon/ said I ; ‘ and as I am not running 
for office, I mean to say that they have just 
as much right to scramble for a living as have 
any of the people who come. Haven’t they, 
Philemon ? ’ 

“‘Yes, I reckon so, Matilda; but it is an 
unpopular subject — very.’ 

“‘But, Philemon/ said I, ‘David says the 
poor creatures are so harmless; they attend 
strictly to their own business, and would 
never make a disturbance if they weren’t 
worried and taunted into doing what gets 
them into trouble. They can’t go on the 
streets that the boys don’t hollo “ Rats ! ” at 
them and run up behind them and pull their 
cues. One of them who had been converted 
to Christianity said the boys made him sin in 
getting angry, and that was his great trouble 
in this land of the free and home of the 
brave.’ 

“ ‘ But, Matilda/ said Philemon, ‘ “the land 
of the free” calculated that all who come 
would identify themselves with us, and be- 


WORK AMONG THE CHINESE. 


291 


come citizens and vote. The Chinamen don’t 
do that j they come here only to make money, 
take it back to China, and that is the last we 
see of our money. To be sure, they earn it, 
but we don’t want them to have it.’ 

“‘Well, Philemon,’ said I, ‘do our people 
identify themselves with the Celestials when 
they go to China? Do they marry Chinese 
girls and settle down there to stay, and eat 
with chop-sticks and worship idols, and let 
their hair grow into cues, and give all the 
money back that they have earned when they 
leave ? ’ 

“ ‘ No,’ says Philemon, ‘ I don’t know as they 
do; but, Matilda, we’ve got to make laws to 
keep them out, or the country would be over- 
run. That is what some of our lawmakers say.’ 

“ ‘ Overrun, Philemon,’ said I, ‘ when there 
are thousands upon thousands of acres of 
land waiting and begging for people to set- 
tle on them ! Why can’t they let the poor 
crowded creatures come — that can live on 
next to nothing — and teach them that people 


292 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


need something besides clean clothes, by en- 
couraging them to learn trades and farming, 
and then colonize them and help them to get 
settled in these new countries, and build 
flourishing cities where there are now howl- 
ing wildernesses ? ’ 

u 1 But, Matilda, that is just the trouble ; 
they don’t want to go into howling wilder- 
nesses and wait while cities are getting built. 
They want to cluster in them that’s already 
built, open their laundries, make their five 
hundred dollars, and go home to be rich men 
all the rest of their lives.’ 

“‘Well, then,’ said I, ‘let them settle 
where they can make it the quickest, and go 
back and take with them the knowledge of 
our Saviour, and our better way of living, 
our manners and customs, and civilized ways 
of earning our support, and let others come 
and take their places.’ 

u 1 But, Matilda, what is to be done with 
our own people whom they crowd out, and 
the Irish and Germans and organ-grinders ? ’ 


WORK AMONG THE CHINESE. 


293 


“ 1 Why, they, having knowledge of build- 
ing and farming and trades and cattle-raising, 
would be the very ones to go out to the new 
countries and improve land and build cities. 
And see what a help it would be to our nation 
to have all that outlying land improved.’ 

“ 1 Yes/ said Philemon, ‘ it does seem hard 
to keep the poor creatures in darkness and 
away from gospel privileges when the work 
of Christianizing them could be done by 
wholesale if they were allowed to come, be- 
sides teaching them to live in a civilized way. 
But those who make the laws know what is 
best, I reckon.’ And he picked up his paper 
and went to reading. 

“Well, Dorcas, as I said before, we went to 
town. And on Sunday we went to the Chinese 
Sunday-school, and it was an interesting sight, 
and, I must say, pathetic, to see full-grown 
men poring over their books, trying to learn 
the Christian’s language and belief. All were 
well dressed, their cues twisted around their 
heads (to keep them out of the reach of the 


294 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


street-boys, I reckon), and their collars and 
stockings white as snow. 

“And I thought it wouldn’t be very easy 
to find as large a number of our young men 
in the same station of life who would be as 
quiet and studious and well bred as these 
poor heathen. 

“ One of the teachers was a missionary’s 
daughter. She was born in China, and had 
lived there twenty-seven years ; and she said 
that she had never in all that time received 
anything but kindness and politeness from 
the Celestials, and it made her heart ache to 
see how they are treated here in a Christian 
land. She understood and spoke their lan- 
guage as well as they did, and they came to 
her from all parts of the city to tell her their 
troubles and to get her to speak for them 
when they couldn’t make themselves under- 
stood. 

“ In the evening we went to a young men’s 
Bible class where they were all Chinamen, 
and where a policeman had to stand before 


WORK AMONG THE CHINESE. 


295 


the door to keep our youth from going in to 
break up the meeting, and to protect the 
Chinamen from being maltreated when they 
were going in and out. 

“One of the poor creatures there was in 
trouble because his brother — nothing but a 
boy — had been sent to the House of Correc- 
tion for a whole year, accused of drawing a 
knife upon a customer who disputed about 
the change due him. The court didn’t prove 
that the knife was drawn, and the woman 
where they boarded said she didn’t believe it, 
for they vrere as honest as the day, and peace- 
able as lambs ; and the only reason that I can 
see why he was sent to the House of Correc- 
tion and the customer was allowed to go free 
was that the Celestial was not a voter and the 
customer was. 

“ So there the poor boy had to stay, sepa- 
rated from his brother, and a stranger in a 
strange land. 

“ His Sunday-school teacher asked the min- 
ister to intercede for him, but he could not get 


296 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


him out of the House of Correction, though 
he did get them to spare his cue from being 
cut off, and got them to allow him rice, which 
he longed for. 

“Well, when we got back to David’s I 
couldn’t help but speak of the nice appear- 
ance of the Celestials, their neat clothes and 
quiet, polite behavior • and I added that there 
wasn’t a smell of whisky or tobacco on any 
of them, so far as I could smell. 

“ ‘ They do say the Chinese use opium,’ said 
Philemon j ‘ but I have no right to accuse them 
of it, for I don’t know anything about them.’ 

“‘Yes, father,’ said David, ‘they do use 
opium 5 but when we remember that it was 
a Christian nation that forced China, at the 
point of the bayonet, to repeal its ancient 
law of death for all opium-smokers, and to 
permit the deadly drug to be scattered broad- 
cast over the country, it looks a little incon- 
sistent in us to berate the Chinese so savagely 
and punish them so severely when they are 
caught at running opium dens. Not but 


WORK AMONG THE CHINESE 


297 


what they should he made to obey our laws, 
and be punished when they transgress them ; 
but as it was a Christian nation that forced 
them into this evil, we, as a Christian nation, 
should show them their error in a Christian 
spirit, and not in a spirit of revenge because 
they are here and we don’t want them.’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ remarked Philemon, 1 it is rather 
narrow-minded in us to make such a parade 
over a raid against a Chinese opium or gam- 
bling den where the Celestials are being made 
only a little more degraded than they were 
before, when we are letting our people send 
thousands of gallons of whisky to Africa and 
other heathen countries. If that isn’t strain- 
ing at a gnat and swallowing a camel I don’t 
know what is.’ 

“Well, the next day David’s wife took me 
to the missionary meeting, and I was glad to 
find that they were discussing the question of 
sending a missionary to China. And one lady 
said that she reckoned that until 1 every land 
and nation had heard Messiah’s name’ the 


298 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


old objection would come up as to whether it 
were worth while to tax ourselves to send 
missionaries to the heathen, because they 
would be saved without our help if God 
willed it. 

“‘But/ continued she, ‘it is not so much 
the question as to whether the heathen can 
be saved without the gospel as whether we 
ourselves can be saved if we fail to present it 
to them/ 

“Well, they decided that afternoon to send 
the missionary, and then the question was as 
to what style of person to send. After a 
lot of pros and cons they decided that they 
wanted a girl not under eighteen years of 
age; she must be willing to learn the Chi- 
nese language, so that no time need be 
taken up after she reached there in learning 
it; she must be healthy, with a sound, well- 
disciplined mind, habits of thought and study, 
a good education, power of adaptation to new 
circumstances, cheerful and patient in dispo- 
sition, and, above and beyond all, with a heart 


WORK AMONG THE CHINESE. 


299 


singly and steadfastly devoted to the Saviour 
and His work upon earth. 

“ ‘If such a person can be found/ said the 
president, 4 1 am sure Mrs. Hudson will agree 
to teach her the Chinese language.’ 

u 1 Yes/ said she, 1 it would be a great plea- 
sure to me, and I am ready to commence it 
at any time.’ 

“ Then the question came up how long it 
would take to learn the language, and how 
much money could be collected in the trea- 
sury by that time ; and Mrs. Dale said if 
more money was needed when the time came 
she would supply it. 

“ Then the president suggested that all the 
ladies would consider within themselves who 
among their young-lady acquaintances might 
be willing to go ; but all shook their heads, 
and said so far as they knew at that time there 
was not one. 

“ Then the president said we would make 
it a subject of prayer, and no doubtTthe right 
one would be found. And she said, 1 Let us 


300 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS . 


pray ; ’ and she offered the petition that if it were 
the Father’s will, snch a person might be found. 

“Well, Dorcas, I never was more interested 
in my life ; and all the time of the discussion 
I kept thinking to myself, 1 Gerty is the very 
girl they have need of. She has all the qual- 
ities they mention, and more ; for she has no 
relations to grieve after her and hinder her 
except her father, and he is going to marry 
and won’t miss her enough to refuse to let her 
go. She is not eighteen, but will be by the 
time she learns the language, although she is 
quick at learning, for she picked up German, 
and reads and speaks it, without taking one 
lesson from a teacher.’ 

“ I knew it was not my missionary meeting, 
and that I maybe had no right to have a say ; 
but the president had said for all the ladies 
present to consider the matter, so I spoke up. 

u 1 Sisters,’ said I, ‘ there is a young girl of 
my acquaintance who is all that you say you 
need in a missionary. She loves teaching, 
and has for years longed to be a missionary. 


WORK AMONG THE CHINESE. 


301 


I am sure she will learn the language as 
quickly as any one you will find — at least, 
she learned to speak German without having 
anybody to tell her a word, but got it all from 
books. If you are willing to speak to her of 
it, I will tell her that she may call to see you.’ 

“ As soon as I had finished speaking, Mrs. 
Dale turned to me, and said she : 

“ ‘ It is Gerty you are alluding to, Sister 
Atheling j I am sure it is.’ 

“ ‘ Yes/ said I, ‘it is Gerty.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, sisters,’ said she, ‘ I am well ac- 
quainted also with the young lady of whom 
Sister Atheling speaks 5 and if she be willing 
to go, I am sure you cannot be better suited.’ 

“Well, they were all delighted that the 
subject was thus far on the way 5 and then 
we parted, and I went back with David’s wife. 

“ On my way there, I couldn’t help saying 
to myself, ‘Now, Matilda Atheling, I hope 
you haven’t been talking too fast and mak- 
ing Gerty out smarter about learning than 
she is.’ So I made up my mind to ask her 


302 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


liow she came to take up the study of Ger- 
man, and why she wanted to learn it without 
the help of a teacher. I thought I would lis- 
ten to her account of it, and then tell her 
why I asked. 

“ As good luck would have it, a lady had 
called to see David’s wife; so I just passed 
up to the nursery, and found Gerty sitting 
by the window reading, and little Philemon 
asleep in his crib. 

“ ‘ Gerty,’ said I, as I took a rocking-chair, 
‘you told me once when I was here about 
your picking up German ; I don’t remember 
all you said, so I would like to hear it again.’ 

“ ‘ Well, dear Mrs. Atheling, you shall hear 
it,’ said she, smilingly, ‘for it is something 
that has given me such pleasure that I love 
to speak of it.’ 

“ ‘ But why did you happen to select Ger- 
man in preference to any other language, 
Gerty ? ’ said I. 

“ ‘ The only reason that I am aware of is 
that the first foreigners I had ever seen were 


WORK AMONG THE CHINESE. 


303 


Germans. One was an intelligent, educated 
gentleman, a music-teacher, who gave me 
music-lessons when I was a child, at our 
home in the country j the other was our gar- 
dener, a pious old man. And when the two 
happened to meet, my delight was unbounded 
at hearing them converse in a tongue un- 
known to me. In my opinion, persons who 
could speak in two languages were beings 
worthy of profound respect and admiration ; 
but it never occurred to me for years after 
that a language could be learned from books.’ 

“ 1 But, Gerty, couldn’t you have learned it 
from one or both of the Germans who came 
to your father’s house ? ’ 

“ 1 1 suppose I could ; but I had never men- 
tioned my longing to learn to either of my 
parents, looking upon it as something impos- 
sible.’ 

“ ‘ But after you came to the city you could 
have taken lessons from a German teacher, 
couldn’t you?’ 

“‘No; papa lost all his money while we 


304 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


were in the country, through indorsing for a 
friend and the failure of a bank; and after 
we came here we got poorer and poorer — for 
papa could not get into business — and mother 
died, and I was trying to keep house without 
knowing anything about it — for we had plenty 
of servants in our old home. Then, dear Mrs. 
Atheling, after I found such a good home 
here, I had so many other branches to learn 
when I was in school that German was for a 
time put out of my thoughts. 

“ ‘ At length, at the beginning of one vaca- 
tion, happening to look over a list of school- 
books, I noticed “ OehlschlagePs Pronounc- 
ing Glerman Reader ” ; and no time was lost 
in getting one, and also a dictionary of that 
language. 

u 1 Now that papa was keeping me well sup- 
plied with money it would have been very easy 
to obtain a teacher ; but my ambition was to 
read and translate German, to pronounce it 
correctly, and, as a test of capability in that 
line, to accomplish it without a teacher. 


WORK AMONG THE CHINESE. 


305 


u ‘ With books in hand I set to work with 
enthusiasm j and for your benefit, dear Mrs. 
Atheling, if you have never seen the reader, 
I will quote the first sentence of the preface : 

“ That the learning of a language is a 
task — a tedious and difficult task — will be ad- 
mitted by those who have learned and those 
who have taught languages.” 

“‘This remark did not daunt me in the 
least, for I have faith in the axiom, “What 
man has done man can do ”5 and if it had 
done so, ample balm would have been found 
in a paragraph farther on, which I will also 
quote : 

“ ‘ “ Too much stress has always been laid 
upon what is called the grammar of a lan- 
guage. I have always been of the opinion — 
and twenty years of professional practice 
have confirmed the opinion — that to read and 
understand a language requires a very slender 
knowledge of special grammar.” 

“‘Now all this suited me exactly, for it was 
a pet theory of mine that if one understood 


306 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


the grammar of her own language pretty- 
well, she could make it available for every 
other without drudging with the grammar of 
that particular language. So, fortified with 
a good supply of self-confidence, I set to work 
upon my first fable, which was entitled “ Das 
Rotkehlchen.” On turning to the glossary 
at the back of the reader I found that Das 
Kotkehlchen meant “ the little redbreast.” 

“‘“Well,” thought I, “it would be a pity 
indeed if such a small affair as a robin could 
conquer a girl of m3? size.” So I cheerily 
awaited developments ; and, dear Mrs. Athel- 
ing, if my mind had been a sieve, the sound 
of the words of that first line, as pronounced 
underneath it, could not have slipped through 
easier and left less impression, except of blank 
dismay at my dullness, of which I had never 
before been conscious. 

“ ‘ For three days I picked up the book at 
odd times and conned over my three lines — 
the limit which I had given myself — and at 
the end of that time I may say truly that it 


WORK AMONG THE CHINESE. 


307 


was the only thing that I ever undertook that 
I had even a passing thought of giving up/ 

“‘Well, you must like hard study, Gerty, 
or you would have been discouraged/ 

“ 1 Yes, I love study ; and my dear mother 
taught me to gain any branch of knowledge 
I could, for it always comes in use; and I 
have certainly found it the case with German. 
But with all my desire to conquer obstacles, 
my memory proved faithless when I tried to 
put sound and meaning together, although, 
thanks to the glossary, I knew the meaning 
of the words. It was discouraging, but I 
would not give it up; and one afternoon we 
had a call from the pastor of our church to 
meet at the parsonage to organize the mission- 
ary meeting you attended this afternoon. In 
canvassing ways and means the pastor quoted 
an old German proverb: “Alter Anfang ist 
schwer ” to which a lady responded, u Ja, das 
ist wahrP 

“ 1 “ What did he say ? ” questioned I at the 
first opportunity. 


308 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“‘“He said, ‘ Every beginning is difficult.”’ 

“ ‘ “ What did you say in reply f ” was my 
next move in the pursuit of knowledge. 

“ 1 “ I said, ‘ Yes, that is true.’ ” 

“‘“Well,” thought I, “there are several 
other things besides the organizing of mis- 
sionary meetings to which this will apply, 
and, if I am not mistaken, ‘German with- 
out a master’ heads the list.” But in spite 
of all discouragements I determined to per- 
severe. 

Ui Das Rotkelilclien and I had been through 
legions of skirmishes, in which he sometimes 
came off victorious and sometimes I had what 
I called an advantage ; but it was all of six 
weeks before I would trust myself to read my 
first fable to a live German. 

“ ‘ As you know, dear Mrs. Atheling, there 
is a German family a few doors from us, who 
are good friends and neighbors ; and it was in 
their benign presence that I resolved to launch 
my small craft, which I feared was not quite 
seaworthy. So one evening I summoned cou- 


WORK AMONG THE CHINESE. 


309 


rage, took my reader, and went to pass an 
hour or so with them. 

“ ‘ I will always remember the charming- 
little parlor where the family pass their even- 
ings ; the kind old father in robe and slippers ; 
the smiling Hausmutter , knitting in hand ; the 
blooming daughter, the light of the happy 
home ; the canary hopping about in its cage ; 
the parrot inviting me in cordial tones to “ take 
a seat by the fire ” ; and the exuberant joy of 
the two little dogs, “Nellchen” and “Happy” 
— the latter a born German, who cannot 
understand a word of English, but can per- 
form any number of antics in Dutch. 

“ ‘ After we had chatted awhile I drew my 
reader forth, and told them I would read 
something. My satisfaction was complete 
when I found that they not only understood 
every word, but said my accent was very 
good indeed ; and one of the pleasures of my 
pleasant life is to read aloud in German to 
my good German neighbors. 

“ ‘ 1 have, however, noticed that no matter 


310 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


how treacherous iny memory has proved when 
I tried to press a refractory word upon its 
acceptance, it never forgets the most trifling 
hint given it by my good neighbors; from 
which I infer that one could learn much more 
easily and quickly with the aid of a teacher. 
Of course this is not, perhaps, a fair test, 
as I never devoted sixty consecutive minutes 
to it since I began, but only odds and ends of 
time, as I never intended it to interfere with 
my other studies or music, but considered it 
only in the light of a recreation. 

“ ‘ Because I had mastered one fable you 
must not suppose that ever afterward I 
sailed along without difficulty. No indeed; 
every fable contained words which were in no 
other; but though each one was more diffi- 
cult than that preceding it, I believe it was a 
hair’s-breadth easier to learn. 

“ ‘ Having read the reader from preface to 
finis, my next undertaking was to read the 
Bible in German ; so I purchased one in that 
language. My rule was to take down words 


WORK AMONG THE CHINESE. 


311 


in each chapter that were new to me, find 
their meaning in the dictionary, and write 
them upon a slip of paper, placing it where 
I could glance over it occasionally. In this 
way I have read it through ; some chapters 
required no help from the dictionary. 

“‘Of course, knowing the meaning of most 
words, I can carry on an understandable, 
though somewhat jerky, conversation ; and if 
I sometimes get “the cart before the horse/ 7 1 
give myself a mental shake and say, “ Serves 
you right for studying German without a 
master. 777 

“Well, Dorcas, as soon as she had finished 
I told her what my object was in asking, and 
gave her the substance of all that was said at 
the missionary meeting ; and she clasped her 
hands in joy, and said with tears in her eyes : 

“ 1 God does answer prayer ; He has opened 
the way for which I have been longing. 
Praises be to His holy name ! 7 

“Yes, Dorcas, before Philemon and I left 
David’s the matter was settled, and Gerty 


312 


WHAT I TOLD DOBCAS. 


had taken her first lesson in Chinese ; and I 
couldn’t help saying to my self , ‘ Matilda 
Atheling, you have done some good in the 
world; at least, so far, it is no worse for 
your living in it.’ 

“Just see the people coming in! and the 
lecturer has taken his place. I am real glad 
we had the chance to have this nice talk, 
Dorcas.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE MINNESOTA MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 

“ Good-morning, Dorcas. Come out to the 
carriage a minute, will you? I wish you 
would go to town with me this morning, for 
besides having the pleasure of your com- 
pany I would have the chance to tell you of 
our lovely visit to Sister Tabitha and the mis- 
sionary convention. Go get on your wraps ; 
I will wait for you as long as you need.” 

“Well, it did not take you long to get 
ready. Step right in and make yourself 
comfortable, and we will have the six miles 
there and six miles back to talk. 

u To begin at the beginning. Sister Tabitha 
sent us one of her cordial invitations to come 
in time for the missionary convention, and 
Philemon wrote that we would come ; and we 
313 


314 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


made all our plans to have a good refreshing 
visit, as we certainly did have. 

“A few days before the time we had ar- 
ranged to go a new thought came into my 
mind, and I resolved to tell Philemon of it 
that very evening. So as soon as supper was 
over, and we were sitting by the lamp, and 
he was paring an apple, said I, ‘ Philemon/ 
“Said he, ‘Well?’ 

“ 4 Let ns start two days earlier than we 
planned, and go round by Washington and 
stop off there the two days/ 

“Philemon was agreeable, and we carried 
out the plan. And the first day we paid a 
visit to Mount Vernon, with a great many 
sight-seers besides ourselves — among them 
the Chinese legation — and all our pictures 
were taken while we were standing on the 
green before the mansion. Philemon bought 
one, and we prize it not only for the reason 
that the Celestials with their gay, rich robes 
are in it, but as a memento of a truly happy 
day. 


MINNESOTA MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 315 


“It wasn’t our first visit to Washington, 
and we had done all the public buildings, and 
the Monument thrown in, before, and it wasn’t 
worth while to tire ourselves out doing them 
again. But the next morning we did walk 
through the White House grounds, for I said 
to Philemon that we might catch a glimpse of 
the beautiful young wife of the President, and 
I really had a desire to see her. 

“You know that I was always the luckiest 
creature in the world in regard to the simple 
pleasures which go toward making the hap- 
piness of life ; and it wasn’t intended that I 
should be disappointed this time. We had 
rested under the trees, and then walked to 
the front of the executive mansion, and 
there stood a carriage, waiting for some one 
to take a drive. I mistrusted that the one 
was ‘the first lady in the land,’ and I was 
right; for down the portico steps she came 
with another lady ; and you will not be sur- 
prised when I tell you that the fair young 
creature looked down upon us with a sweet 


316 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


smile, and Philemon raised his hat and I 
smiled back. She knew that we plain elderly 
people wanted to see her, and she wasn't go- 
ing to let ns be disappointed; and I said to 
Philemon that it was just one of my pleasant 
happenings — far better than jostling in the 
crowd of a public reception, when people are 
driven through the rooms like a flock of 
sheep. 

“Well, we had a charming morning; and 
after dinner at the hotel we went out for 
another walk. We hadn't gone far when we 
saw a lot of women hurrying to a great 
building and rushing up the broad steps. 

“ 1 What is going on here ? ' said I to a girl 
who was making for the door. 

“ She turned pleasantly to me, looking sur- 
prised that I didn't know, hurried over a few 
words, and rushed in. 

“ ‘ What did she say, Matilda ? ’ asked Phil- 
emon. 

“ 1 She ran her words together so quickly 
that I couldn't quite separate them,’ said I ; 


MINNESOTA MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 317 

i but she said something about u sufferers.” 
Maybe there has been a fire or flood or some- 
thing, and they are collecting money for the 
poor creatures.’ 

u You know that Philemon Atheling’s heart 
and hand are always open to appeals of that 
kind, and I saw that he wanted to go in, but 
I didn’t say anything. 

“ ‘ Matilda,’ said he. 

“‘Well?’ said I. 

“ 1 Let us go in ; maybe we can help the 
poor creatures in some way.’ 

“I was agreeable, and we hurried in like 
the others j and although the big house was 
full, we got seats together where we could see 
and hear everything that was going on. It 
was the handsomest building I ever was in, 
with gilding and frescoing, and curtains and 
chandeliers and carpet and nice velvety seats. 

“ I was a little bewildered at first with the 
crowd and hurry and fuss of finding seats, 
and when I got calmed the first thing I 
noticed was a large and perfect portrait of 


318 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


Lucretia Mott, looking right at Philemon and 
me. 

u 1 Philemon/ I whispered. 

“ ‘Well? 7 whispered he. 

“ ‘It must be a Friends 7 meeting — there is 
Lucretia Mott. 7 

“‘Yes/ whispered he, ‘I reckon it is; but 
it is as good a place as any to rest, so we will 
stay. 7 

11 1 was real glad he felt so, for that picture 
had bridged over the gulf of years, and I was 
no longer an elderly woman, but a child again 
in my old home ; and it was the Friends 7 
Quarterly Meeting day, and we were all in 
the old meeting-house and waiting in the 
subdued hush for the preaching to begin. I 
seemed to hear the chirping of insects outside 
on the grassy graves in the burying-ground 
where slept the ancient fathers of the church, 
and the twittering of birds in the Lombardy 
poplars and willow-trees near by. Quarterly 
Meeting day was a great event, the crowning 
day of the summer ; and coming, as it did, on 


MINNESOTA MISSION AliY CONVENTION. 319 

the first* sixth day after the third second day 
of the eighth month, there was no school, and 
children who wanted to go could go, and I 
was one of them. And while taking in all 
the proceedings, I did not forget the dinner- 
table at home, which would be groaning with 
good things for the Quarterly Meeting dinner ; 
for our home was within a stone’s throw of 
the meeting-house, and we had many rela- 
tives from a distance who would take dinner 
with us, and some of the preachers would be 
there, and everybody who came would be 
welcome. 

“On those great days there were always 
several noted preachers, who were all listened 
to with attention 5 but a thrill passed over the 
great assembly when Lucretia Mofct rose, and 
they sat spellbound until she finished. She 
was the sweetest little creature, so fair and 
frail-looking and dainty; and her voice 
thrilled one like a strain of plaintive music. 

“ I had been used to hearing women- 
preachers all my life, and I think it the most 


320 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS . 


natural and proper thing in the world, one of 
the most cherished pictures of memory being 
that of that sainted Christian, Lucretia Mott. 

“Well, talking of her has brought back old 
times, and you will think I shall never get to 
the meeting. Let me see : where was I ? Oh 
yes; I had whispered to Philemon that it 
must be a Friends’ meeting, but thought at 
the same time it was too gay-looking for a 
Quaker meeting-house ; so I turned to a 
young girl next to me and said : 

“ ‘ Will you be kind enough to tell me the 
name of this pretty building ? ’ 

“Wes,’ said she, smiling pleasantly; ‘it is 
Albaugh’s Theater.’ 

“‘Well, Matilda Atlieling,’ thought I, 
‘most of folks go to the theater when they 
are young, if they go at all ; but you have 
commenced at the other end of the line, and 
are setting a pretty example to other church 
people.’ I didn’t say anything of this to 
Philemon, for I thought to myself that a few 
minutes more there wouldn’t hurt us any 


MINNESOTA MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 32\ 

more than we were already hurt 5 and if it is 
good enough for even the picture of Lucretia 
Mott, it is good enough for me. 

“ 1 Are the people who are on the stage 
actors ? 7 inquired I of the kind young girl. 

“ 1 Oh no, 7 said she, smiling ; 1 those are the 
speakers and their friends. 7 

“ Just then Philemon said, 1 Matilda. 7 

“Said I, 1 Well? 7 

“ 1 This is a political meeting as sure as I 
live ; there is Frederick Douglass on the plat- 
form — I know him by his pictures. He must 
be going to speak 5 I am real glad we came ; 
I always wanted to hear him. 7 

“ I never saw a finer-looking set of women 
than was on that platform, and I was wishing 
I knew who they were, when the dear young 
girl who sat next to me spoke : 

“‘I have been here to the meetings and 
know most of the speakers 5 would you like 
to be told who they are V 

“ ‘ Indeed I would, 7 said I, 1 and it is real 
sweet and kind in you to tell me. 7 


322 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


11 ‘ Well/ said she, ‘that one with a mass of 
beautiful white hair is Elizabeth Cady Stan- 
ton ; the one with the dainty lace cap is Julia 
Ward Howe; the one toying with a fan is 
Matilda Jocelyn Gage; the one next to her, 
with white ribbon on her breast, is Frances E. 
Willard ; that stylish, Frenchy-looking one in 
a handsome lace shawl is Sarah G. Lippincott, 
known in literature as “ Grace Greenwood ” ; 
the one with a paper in her hand is Jenny 
June Croly; the one so handsomely attired 
next to her is Margaret Bottome, the founder 
of the society of the “King’s Daughters”; 
the lady next to her is the Rev. Anna Shaw, 
who is not only a minister but a graduate of 
a medical college ; the one about to call the 
meeting to order is Susan B. Anthony, and — ’ 
And then she had to stop. 

“ Well, when I heard the names — particu- 
larly the last one — I mistrusted where we 
were, but I didn’t say anything to Philemon, 
who was looking about him, and, I knew, was 
wondering what building it was. 


MINNESOTA MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 323 


“ The first speaker let in more light to my 
understanding, but not to Philemon’s ; for he 
hadn’t an idea who any of them were except 
Frederick, and he felt as comfortable being at 
a political meeting with him as I had being at 
a Quaker meeting with Lncretia Mott. 

“The first speaker told ns that the first 
meeting of the kind was planned by Lncretia 
Mott when at a convention in London where 
they wouldn’t let women speak ; and then she 
mentioned all the bother they had getting 
started, and I noticed that Philemon was 
listening with all his ears. It wasn’t a long 
speech, and was in as sweet and gentle, yet 
clear, a voice as I ever heard. And then Eliz- 
abeth Cady Stanton spoke, and the whole 
crowded house was listening as intently as 
could be, when Philemon whispered, ‘Ma- 
tilda.’ 

“ ‘ Well ? ’ whispered I. 

“ ‘ This is a woman’s-rights meeting as sure 
as you live ; let us go.’ 

“ ‘ But, Philemon, this is a grand place to 


324 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


rest, and we might as well stay here as to 
walk about the city or mope at the hotel from 
now till to-morrow morning.’ 

a ‘Do yon think I am going to sit here and 
listen to short-haired, shrill-voiced, mannish- 
looking wojnen swaggering about, conceiting 
they are speaking ? ’ 

“ ‘ Point out any who look that way, Phile- 
mon,’ said I j 1 that is only the kind you read of 
— none of them are here ; besides, yon haven’t 
heard Frederick Douglass make a political 
speech.’ 

“ 1 No,’ said he, 1 1 haven’t.’ And he settled 
back in the comfortable seat. 

“Well, first one of the women spoke and 
then another ; and the last one of the Hutch- 
inson family sang one of their old songs that 
I had heard the whole thirteen sing when I 
was younger $ and I could see that Philemon 
was getting interested in spite of himself. 

“ There was more speaking — all being lim- 
ited to five-minute speeches — and then Susan 
B. Anthony said : 


MINNESOTA MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 325 

“ ‘ Let every woman in the house that is 
willing to vote signify it by putting up the 
right hand.’ And, so far as I could see, every 
woman put up a hand except I. 

“I would have been among the first, I 
reckon, if Philemon hadn’t whispered, in real 
tragic tones : 

“ 1 Matilda, whatever you do, don’t join in 
•with that short-haired, shrill-voiced, mannish 
crowd.’ 

“So, out of respect to his convictions, I 
don’t say that I am sorry I didn’t. 

“Well, numbers were so against Philemon 
that he would have left there and then; but 
Frederick Douglass hadn’t been up, and al- 
though he didn’t take the interest he would 
have done had it been a political meeting, 
Frederick was Frederick, and he didn’t want 
to lose the chance to hear him. I was enjoy 
ing all to the fullest extent, when Philemon 
whispered, 1 Matilda.’ 

“< Well! ’said I. 

“ 1 I really wish I knew what to call this 


326 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


meeting ; I have read Douglass’s speeches, and 
can’t think his good sense would let him be a 
woman’s-rights man.’ 

“ 1 It is the Woman’s International Council,’ 
said the young girl next to me, who had heard 
him. And Philemon had the grace to thank 
her, although not well pleased with the name 
of the meeting. 

“After a time it came Frederick’s turn to 
speak; and I declare I couldn’t keep from 
laughing in my sleeve to see the fix Philemon 
was in. He was delighted with Frederick’s 
eloquence, but didn’t like the subject; he 
couldn’t help showing his eager interest, but 
didn’t want me to think he liked the woman’s- 
rights opinions Frederick was uttering. So 
between these two fires Philemon was really 
uncomfortable, and when the speech was over 
he turned to me and said : 

“‘Matilda, isn’t it queer a man that can 
speak that way would waste his words on 
such a question as woman’s rights ? ’ 

“Well, as I said before, not knowing my 


MINNESOTA MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 327 

own mind on this subject, I thought silence 
was best 5 and at that minute a young lady 
got up and sang one of the sweetest old-time 
songs — one that Philemon and I used to sing 
when we were young; and the tears really 
came to our eyes as we listened. 

“ Then the meeting was over, and we left 
with the crowd. And in the evening, when 
we were sitting by one of the windows of the 
hotel that looks out on 1 the avenue/ as they 
call it, Philemon said, 1 Matilda.’ 

“Said I, ‘Well?’ 

“ 1 Before I knew anything about the 
heathen/ said he, ‘ I didn’t take any interest 
in missions; and before I knew anything 
about woman’s-rights women I thought they 
wore short hair and went swaggering about 
thinking they could speak. I guess, Matilda, 
that folks have to be educated up to the 
belief that women should vote, just as that 
heathen should have the gospel sent them. I 
haven’t reached that idea yet, that they have 
any business at the polls, but if I don’t want 


328 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS . 


to reach it I must stay away from woman’s- 
rights conventions.’ 

“Well, Dorcas, the next morning, bright 
and early, Philemon and I continued on our 
journey to Minnesota 5 and we had so many 
pleasant incidents on the way that we can 
never forget it; and it seemed to me that 
Philemon had ever so many chances to do 
kindnesses, and never let one slip. 

“ When we got within about fifty miles of 
the town where Sister Tabitha lives, we had 
to change cars, and Philemon and I were 
among the first to step on; but I was first, 
and got a nice seat for us, for he had been 
kept back by the crowd at the door. But 
finally he struggled in, and put the satchels 
under the seat, just as a real handsome young 
couple took the seat before us ; and in their 
chat we gathered that they had just been mar- 
ried at her father’s house and were on their 
way to the groom’s home in the very town in 
Minnesota where lived Sister Tabitha. They 
chatted like two loving little wrens — but not 


MINNESOTA MISSIONARY CONVENTION. S29 


a bit foolish — and Philemon and I fell in love 
with them. 

“ After a time the bride began searching 
for something in great earnest. She looked 
in her pocket and liand-satchel and shawl- 
strap, and then the groom searched in all his 
pockets, and then they arose and looked on 
the floor and under the seat; and whatever 
was lost couldn’t be found, and the bride 
commenced crying bitterly, and the groom 
tried to comfort her. 

11 ‘ Oh/ said she, in a low tone — but we 
heard it — ‘I would not care so much if it 
could be replaced ; but there are names on it 
that I can never have again ; and even if it 
were possible, it would never seem the same. 
I was intending to have it framed and keep 
it all my life, and now it is gone.’ And she 
wept again. 

“Well, Philemon and I sat and wondered 
what it could be; and after some nodding 
and whispering between us, I leaned over and 
said : 


330 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ 1 Excuse an old woman for meddling, but 
what is it you have lost ¥ ’ 

“ Well, the dear young creature seemed glad 
that I asked, and so did the young husband. 

“ ‘ It is our marriage certificate, beautifully 
ornamented with liand-painting by a dear 
friend. It has over three hundred names of 
relatives and friends who witnessed our mar- 
riage ; and I intended to keep it always, and 
now it is gone/ 

“Philemon and I were sorry that this 
shadow must be cast upon the brightness of 
her wedding-day, and, indeed, all her after- 
life, but we couldn’t think of anything to 
cheer her j and I was looking out of the win- 
dow when a thought came into my mind. 

“ 1 Philemon,’ said I. 

“ 1 Well?’ said he. 

“ L What was the little package you picked 
up just as we stepped on the platform of the 
car?’ 

“Philemon looked puzzled for a minute, 
and then spoke : 


MINNESOTA MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 331 

“ ‘ I did pick up something, but never 
thought of it afterward, and don’t know 
where I put it.’ 

u 1 Try and think, Philemon,’ said I ; i may- 
be you put it in one of your pockets.’ 

“ 1 Now, Matilda,’ said he , 1 what could I put 
it in my pocket with, when my two hands 
were carrying two satchels, an umbrella, a 
waterproof, and a basket? Besides, if I re- 
member rightly, it was too long to go into a 
pocket.’ 

u 1 Maybe it is in your hat,’ said I. 

“ 1 Who was so kind as to lift off my hat to 
put it in, Matilda ? ’ remarked Philemon. 

“ But yet I could see that he was consider- 
ing 5 and after a while he stooped for one of 
the little satchels, and lo and behold ! in the 
strap was sticking a roll of paper. We 
opened it and found it to be the lost mar- 
riage certificate, and Philemon put it in her 
hand. 

“Well, you never saw people more pleased 
than that young couple were. They both 


332 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


rose and shook hands with Philemon and 
me, and that sweet, fair bride put her arms 
around my neck and kissed me. We found 
out by further conversation that the groom 
was a son of Sister Tabitha’s pastor, and he 
spoke in warm praise of her usefulness and 
liberality in the church and community. 

“Well, we really had a charming visit in 
Minnesota; every hour was enjoyed, and time 
went too fast. 

“ The convention was a grand success, and 
there had been so much good done, and the 
wise plans made at the former convention had 
been carried out, and the reports from foreign 
parts were so satisfactory. 

“Sister Tabitha entertained the president 
of the general society and a lot of delegates 
from different parts of the Union, among 
them, to my surprise and joy, Alice Preston, 
looking prettier than I ever imagined she 
could look ; for she had such a kind husband, 
and was happy and contented in her work as 
missionary to the Indians. 


MINNESOTA MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 333 


“In the discussions at the sessions of the 
convention many things were brought up 
which Philemon and I had talked of by 
our fireside ; and we found that among num- 
bers, as with us, there were the encouraging 
and discouraging sides of the question of 
missions. 

“ Those who looked at it in a discouraging 
way spoke of the two hundred and fifty thou- 
sand heathen who were the average to every 
missionary, and said how impossible it would 
be for the world to be evangelized under the 
difficulties existing, especially that of the 
missionary being a foreigner and having to 
teach in a foreign tongue, and having to face 
the prejudices and habits which belonged to 
the race he was trying to convert. 

“ But the majority was on the encouraging 
side, and said that 1 while there were great 
hindrances, and but a mite of the force that 
was really needed to combat them, yet one 
little fact should banish all discouragement, 
which was that God is with the little army of 


334 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


missionaries. They go by His command; 
they fight His battles ; they are sustained by 
His promise of victory. And this is not all ; 
there is a conscience in every man, which 
may be appealed to, and in many cases will 
not refuse its aid. Truth is on their side; 
and all useful knowledge, the science of the 
day, steam, electricity — all these in many 
ways lend a hand to diffuse Christianity. 
The general progress of enlightenment, the 
spirit of the nineteenth century, is a powerful 
aid in all that is right and true. Christian- 
ity is a living and life-giving faith. It prop- 
agates itself. Every lighted brand lights 
other brands with which it comes in contact ; 
so each new convert is to some extent a center 
of light. With some it may be only a tiny 
glimmer ; still it is something. Already there 
are in India more than half a million bearing 
the Christian name. This rapidly growing 
body must make its influence felt. The work 
may be delayed, but it will be accomplished. 
To hasten it all that is needed is less apathy 


MINNESOTA MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 335 

among those who claim to be followers of 
Christ, and the using of even one tenth for 
the evangelizing of the nations which is now 
spent for luxuries.’ 

“Then Alice Preston was called upon to 
say something, and she remarked that no 
words of hers could express so well what was 
in her thoughts as the written words of a 
great preacher whom she named : 

“‘We are in the ship j Jesus is on the shore. 
He sees all the work and oversees it. Dark 
though it be by night, little though at times 
we seem to succeed, He guides the casting of 
the net 5 He will secure a result of glory and 
success. His number shall be complete j He 
will lose nothing. In the morning all shall 
be landed safely.’ 

“Yes, Dorcas, Philemon and I learned a 
great deal at that convention, and we thanked 
Sister Tabitha for inviting us at that time 
and giving us such a grand visit. 

“On our way home we stopped off at 
David’s to tell them all about our trip, and to 


336 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


attend the wedding of Gerty, who, with her 
husband, sailed the following week for China. 

“And that wedding was as unexpected to 
Gerty and the groom and David’s folks, and, 
in fact, to everybody, as it was to Philemon 
and me; and I will tell you how it came 
about. 

“ Gerty had learned the Chinese language, 
and was to go to China with a missionary’s 
family; and in three years she intended to 
return and be married to Simeon Petticord’s 
eldest son, who had been a student in the 
medical college, and had studied Chinese in 
the same class with Gerty at Mrs. Hudson’s. 
Naturally he longed to go to China with her 
as her husband, but he hadn’t the means ; and 
what did he do but go to Sarah Petticord and 
tell her his wishes ; and she told him that if 
he felt it a call to be a medical missionary, 
the money should be furnished him forthwith. 

“Well, that was such unexpected news to 
Gerty that she was at a loss to know whether 
she ought to agree to it or not ; for she didn’t 


MINNESOTA MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 337 


know what the society that was sending her 
would think of it. So she went to see Mrs. 
Dale, and Mrs. Dale saw the president, who 
called a meeting to see if the members were 
willing. 

u It was real amusing to see the way they 
took the news. Some said, ‘No indeed 5 it 
wasn’t what they intended when they contrib- 
uted money to send a missionary to China. 
They had chosen a young girl because she 
would have no home cares to keep her from 
attending to her business of teaching and 
converting the heathen.’ They said if she 
married her time and attention would be 
given to her husband and her home, and the 
heathen would be no better off than they were 
before she went. 

11 Others said that a contented, happy, mar- 
ried woman could do more good among the 
poor creatures than a lonely, homesick girl 
who had left a promised husband here, who 
would keep writing to her, making her un- 
settled and discontented. 


338 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“ When all who were willing to speak had 
spoken, the president turned to Mrs. Dale and 
said : 

“‘What does the sister say who contrib- 
uted more than half the sum to send our 
missionary to China ? ’ 

“ ‘ Why, she says/ said Mrs. Dale, ‘ that a 
happy Christian home such as Dr. Petticord 
and Gerty would establish would exert more 
influence for good than Gerty alone could pos- 
sibly be capable of exerting. Moreover/ said 
Mrs. Dale, ‘ you will have two teachers for the 
price }^ou are paying for one j for Dr. Petti- 
cord will be self-supporting, let you place him 
where you will ; and you will find that three 
years will not limit the stay, if both go.’ 

“ So it was decided and settled that Gerty 
was to marry Dr. Petticord, and the whole 
missionary society was invited to the wed- 
ding. And I never saw" a prettier bride nor a 
handsomer groom. 

“ Simeon Petticord was there ; also Sarah, 
looking as calm and serene as though it 


MINNESOTA MISSIONARY CONVENTION. 339 


wasn’t anything out of the common order of 
things for her to send a son as missionary to 
China now and again; and she kissed her 
new daughter-in-law and chatted with her 
the same as if she had known her from a 
baby, when, in truth, she had never seen her 
until then, and might never see her again. 

“Gerty’s father was there with his new 
wife — a handsome, prosperous-looking man, 
as she was a fine-looking, sensible woman — 
and Gerty was glad that he would not miss 
her so much, now that he was happy in his 
home with a good wife. 

“Then, after the nice refreshments which 
David and his wife had provided were served, 
we went down to the wharf to see them off in 
the vessel, which was making ready to sail ; 
and the same evening Philemon and I came 
home, after one of the loveliest visits we ever 
had.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

BROUGHT INTO THE FOLD. 

u Good-evening, Dorcas. I am really glad 
you came ; I am going to Mr. Granger’s woods 
to get some moss for hanging-baskets, and 
would like you to go with me. We will sit 
on the log by the spring and talk ; for I must 
tell you of Zed Granger’s awakening — while 
in this world — to a new and better life. Yes, 
he has fought a battle and won a victory; 
where he was once blind, he can now see. 

u Take this place, Dorcas ; isn’t it a lovely 
spot? — so secluded and restful, and always 
will be endeared to me from association with 
Mrs. Granger. 

u I have brought the letter which was writ- 
ten by the Nebraska missionary after they 
340 


BROUGHT INTO THE FOLD . 


341 


had used the money sent by check, and tried 
on the garments which were sent in the box. 
Other causes delayed their reply, but it came 
in time to be read at our last meeting, and I 
asked Sarah Petticord to give it to me to read 
to you : 

“ ‘ Dear Christian Friends : No words can 
express our gratitude to God, and to you who 
have so aided us by your nobly generous con- 
tribution of a box of clothing and seventy-five 
dollars in money. You will pardon me that 
I have appeared neglectful in acknowledging 
your kindness earlier — save by the few lines 
sent the day of the reception of your letter, and 
one the next day after receiving the box — 
when I tell you the cause was the watching 
by the dying-bed of our little crippled daugh- 
ter, who has gone home, and is above and 
beyond all the sorrows of this life. We miss 
her every moment, but her patient life and 
happy death are a benediction to us. In her 
last hour she bequeathed her precious doll to 


342 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


the young Indian girl, who is one of our fam- 
ily, and daily growing in the knowledge of 
Christian living. That our little one died 
with the doll in her arms seems to have made 
a great impression upon her. We will never 
know in this life the limit which the gift of 
Mrs. Granger will reach in the work of mis- 
sions ; for our Indian visits the lodge of the 
chief of her people, taking the doll with her, 
and while there imparts all the knowledge 
she gathers from us ; and we try to make it 
effective. It would be impossible to tell how 
many Indians have come from a distance to 
see the doll and hear its history; they look 
upon it as something to be revered. 

“ 1 The clothing sent was all that could be 
desired in material and fit; through your 
Christian helpfulness we are now prepared 
for winter. May God bless all and each of 
you with every blessing you most need ; all I 
can bestow is my heartfelt gratitude. Please 
give my sincere thanks to Mr. Starkey and 
others who gave money to purchase the suit 


BROUGHT INTO THE FOLD. 


343 


of clothing for me. I stood much in need of 
it, that I might do credit to my calling in ap- 
pearance as well as character ; for one cannot 
deny that neat and genteel apparel has its 
influence upon those we wish to improve. 

u 1 Please give my heartfelt thanks to Mr. 
Granger for his generous gift of seventy-five 
dollars. It gave our beloved child a burial 
that was comforting to our bruised hearts, 
and which could not have been done save for 
his timely gift. Tell him that night and 
morning he is mentioned specially in our 
prayers j and we pray that, if he be a father, 
his children may be spared to him $ for none 
save those who have lost little ones know r 
how the heart of a parent is wrung to see 
them suffer and die. I feel sure that the 
grace of God is in his heart, and that he is a 
kind, cherishing husband and loving father, 
a useful citizen, and a blessing to all with 
whom he is associated in life. 

u 1 Thanking you all again and again, I re- 
main your brother in Christ.’ 


344 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


“Well, Dorcas, the evening after this letter 
was read at our missionary meeting, Sarah 
Petticord sent it to Zed Granger’s; for the 
society decided that it was no more than just 
and right that they should know how their 
gifts were appreciated. But more than all, 
Sister Slocum and the Petticords and Phile- 
mon and I had a secret hope and prayer that 
it might he of benefit to Zed ; for he reminds 
me of a plant that has grown in a dark cellar 
and is struggling to reach forward to a ray of 
light which has lately crept in. 

“Sister Slocum’s letter from Serena was 
also read in the society and sent with the mis- 
sionary’s letter to Zed, and, after he returned 
it, was given back to Sister Slocum. It was 
a deeply interesting letter ; and one thing I 
particularly remember in it was the way they 
got the box from the station, which I will tell 
you. 

“ When the scarlet fever broke out among 
them the snow was so deep, and it was so 
bitter cold, that not a creature could venture 


BROUGHT INTO THE FOLD. 


345 


out; and they were miles from the nearest 
town and a doctor, and nearly out of food 
and fuel. But the missionary prayed for aid, 
and had faith that it would come, and it did 
come ; but it couldn’t save the little crippled 
daughter; and they knew that it was God’s 
will that they must part from her, and they 
were submissive under the trial. 

“ The first aid that came was from a poor, 
half-frozen Indian who had been Christian- 
ized by the missionary. He came, as soon as 
the blinding storm would let him, to see if 
the family needed anything; and when he 
found that they were down with the scarlet 
fever, he went back to his home and brought 
his squaw to wait upon them. They came 
with what poor food they had, and their arms 
filled with wood they had gathered on the 
way; and they made a good fire and did all 
they could for the help of those who had been 
good to them. 

“As soon as the storm would let him, the 
Indian walked the long distance to the near- 


340 


WHAT 1 TOLD DORCAS. 


est town to fetch the doctor, who was to call at 
the post-office j which he did, and got the letter 
from our society which contained the check. 

“It wasn’t fit for wagon or anything on 
wheels to travel, so the doctor came on horse- 
back, the Indian walking before, to guide the 
horse through safe paths. 

u The missionary indorsed the check, and 
when the doctor paid his next visit he brought 
the money, except what had been used for 
greatly needed things which the missionary 
had asked him to buy, and which he brought 
in sacks. A day or so after the box came, on 
a great sled drawn by oxen, the people in the 
town helping to level the drifts, so it could 
travel. Then what joy there was in the mis- 
sionary’s family when the warm blankets and 
comfortable clothes were brought to view ! 

“Well, as I said before, these letters were 
sent to Philip Starkey and to Zedekiah Gran- 
ger; and the next evening, while Philemon 
and I were seated by our fire, we heard a tap 
at the door, and Zed came in. 


BROUGHT INTO THE FOLD. 


347 


“ Philemon brought a chair to the hearth 
for him, and he sat down, looking pale and 
sad. He took the missionary’s letter from 
his pocket and laid it upon the table. 

“ ‘Friends/ said he, turning his tear-dimmed 
eyes to us, ‘ I have awakened to the longing 
for a new and better life. I earnestly wish 
to be a Christian, and have come to you, my 
oldest friends and neighbors, to show me the 
way.’ 

“Yes, Dorcas, our brother was sick and in 
prison, and had come to us for words that 
would heal him and set him free. 

“ ‘ If a person believes like a Christian he 
will live like one/ said Philemon, tenderly ; 
1 only believe, brother.’ 

“ 1 1 do believe — oh, freely and fully ! ’ cried 
Zed, clasping his hands. ‘ But the days that 
are past, never to return — how can I atone 
for them ? ’ 

“ ‘ By casting all care for them on Jesus, 
who careth for you/ said Philemon ; 1 it is not 
the past we are called upon each day to live, 


348 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


but the present/ And then he gave Zed 
Granger onr experience of living day by day ; 
and Zed seemed cheered to know there was a 
plan that seemed so easy to follow. 

“‘I have lived a selfish life in the com- 
munity and in my family/ said he, 1 and my 
awakening has come so suddenly, and with 
such force, that I am stunned and bewildered 
by what I have left undone and what I now 
know is my duty to do. The visit of your 
sister Tabitha was the first insight I had that 
we were not living as others lived, but I was 
helpless to see where to make a change. 
When I paid the first visits of my life — to 
you and the Petticords and Mary Slocum — I 
noticed where the husbands had made all im- 
provements for the comfort and convenience 
of their wives, while I had never given the 
health and happiness of my wife one thought. 
I admired your way of living 5 I knew you 
were Christians, and noticed that you were 
cheerful, companionable, and happy; I was 
not a Christian, and was morose, solitary, and 


BROUGHT INTO THE FOLD. 


349 


miserable. You were all helpful to others j I 
never did a generous deed in my life, unless 
forced into it, as in case of the money sent to 
this man, who writes of me under the impres- 
sion that I am one like you, while you were 
all too good and generous — too Christian-like 
— to tell him what a poor creature I am. 

“ ‘ Simeon Petticord’s children cling about 
him and look up to him as their loved friend 
and companion, while mine are in terror of 
me, and would not be a moment in my soci- 
ety if they could help it. I am afraid the 
injury done their sensitive, timid natures is 
irreparable, and they can never care for me.’ 
And tears stood in his eyes as he said it. 

“‘No/ said I, eagerly, ‘children — bless 
them — are too generous and noble to foster 
resentment ; I am sure that a few kind words 
will obliterate any injustice in the hearts of 
little ones like yours/ 

“ ‘ Pray God it may be so ! but I fear they 
will always remember my coldness and sever- 
ity. And my wife — when, at Mrs. Slocum’s 


350 


WHAT 1 TOLD DORCAS. 


that evening, I compared her faded face and 
sad eyes with those of wives of men who 
knew how to treat the ones they had vowed 
to love and cherish, the thought of the years 
of oppression and privation she had passed 
at my side almost overwhelmed me, and I 
then and there asked God to pardon me and 
help me to be a better husband and father. 
When we returned to our home that evening 
I went to the room where slept our children, 
and, kneeling by the bedside, I gazed into the 
faces which never had the look of happy child- 
hood, and in their sleep-bound ears I breathed 
a prayer for pardon for my harshness and 
cruelty to them. I vowed by the help of God 
never again to wound their tender flesh by a 
blow, or their tender, sensitive hearts by a 
bitter word. The whole night I remained 
upon my knees $ and toward the dawning my 
wife came and knelt beside me, and I knew 
that I was forgiven. 

lu When morning came, my children seemed 
to realize that there was a change ; they made 


Bit OUGHT INTO THE FOLD. 


351 


no comment, but gazed compassionately upon 
me ; and one of them — my youngest — came 
and slipped her little hand in mine, as though 
hoping to give comfort for what she could 
not understand.’ 

“ ‘ Behold, old things have passed away, 
and all things are new,’ said Philemon, rever- 
ently. ‘ You have only now to live day by 
day and perform the dut}^ nearest at hand.’ 

“ 4 1 will try,’ said Zed, humbly ; ‘ and for a 
beginning I sent Simeon Petticord the eighty 
dollars, with interest, of which I had deprived 
him ; and have engaged a surveyor to decide 
the exact spot for the corner-stone between 
Philip Starkey’s land and mine, and if he is 
right it shall be moved.’ 

“ ‘ You have brought forth fruit meet for 
repentance,’ said Philemon, cheerfully; ‘all 
that remains is to live day by day.’ 

“‘Day by day,’ repeated Zed, ‘to do the 
duty nearest ; I wish I knew where to begin.’ 

“ ‘ Are you willing for me to advise ? ’ in- 
quired I. 


352 


WHAT I TOLD DOEG'AS. 


“ 1 Willingly ; gladly/ 

“ 1 Then take Mrs. Granger and the children 
on a visit to her parents in Kansas ; it is the 
longing of her life/ 

“ ‘ I will/ said he, earnestly j 1 1 know she 
has never seen one of her family since she 
left them. Strange that it never occurred to 
me that it was possible for us to be spared 
from the farm, or that a loving, dutiful 
daughter would not long to visit her old 
home. Henceforth I shall strive to make up 
for all that I have deprived them of, and my 
means shall be used for their comfort and 
that of others, wherever needed/ 

“ And, Dorcas, we know Zed Granger well 
enough to believe he meant it and would do 
as he promised. 

“ ‘Thank you, Mrs. Atheling, for this sug- 
gestion/ said he ; ‘ and thank you both for the 
comfort you have given me/ 

“Then he bade us good-night and went 
home. 

“They began the very next morning to 


BROUGHT INTO THE FOLD. 


353 


make ready for their journey. Zed took Mrs. 
Granger to the city to buy all they needed 
ready-made, that she might not be harassed 
by the work and hurry of preparation; and 
besides, they wished to go in the lovely 
weather of early autumn, that the children 
might play in the forest where the mother 
and the little brothers and sisters had played, 
and to visit the spot where she stood when 
the cyclone made itself heard. 

11 Zed was just as happy in the prospect as 
any of them; for he was also to take them 
to visit his uncle’s family, and to the school- 
house where he first met their mother. 

“Philemon and I went to Dorton to see 
them off in the train, and a happier-looking 
family I never saw. We have firm faith that 
the repentance of the husband and father is 
real, and the change permanent. When we 
reflected upon the good he can and will do we 
agreed that, in our plan of living day by day, 
the day on which we had written the first 
letter to Sister Tabitha was the most blessed 


354 


WHAT I TOLD DORCAS. 


one of all ; for besides other good results, it 
was the beginning of a train of events which 
led to the awakening of Zedekiah Granger. 

“And the notice of the minister, that 
blessed Sunday, which called us together to 
form our village missionary society was the 
little acorn which had grown to an oak with 
spreading branches ; and under its shelter and 
shade many have found peace to their souls.” 


HERALD SERMONS. 

By Rev. GEORGE H. HEPWORTH, 

AUTHOR OF “ HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION,” ETC. 

45 Short Sermons reprinted from the New York Herald. 
i2mo, 252 pages. Portrait of Author. $1.00. 

“ For months past a sermon has appeared as the leading editorial in 
the Sunday edition of the Herald, and these sermons have now been 
published in book form. In reproducing these admirable discourses the 
publishers have unquestionably acted wisely. Both here and in Europe a 
lively controversy has been aroused in consequence of the bold statements 
and striking originality of these weekly essays on religious topics, while 
at the same time great curiosity has been manifested in regard to the per- 
sonality of the author. 

“But why have these sermons caused such a sensation ? Do they differ 
so much from ordinary sermons? .... Lucidity, brevity, the ex- 
pression of vital truths in clear cut Saxon English, absence of dogmatism, 
an evident abhorrence of intolerance of all kinds, a catholic sympathy 
with human beings of all ranks and creeds, and a determination to insist 
on all occasions that ecclesiasticism, with its formulas and rigid adherence 
to the letter of the law, is quite a different thing from the simple, soul 
satisfying religion of Christ— these, we think, are the chief characteristics 
of George H. Hepworth, as made known to us through this book, and it 
is precisely because he has given full play to his individuality that these 
sermons of his are well worth reading now, and will be well worth read- 
ing long after the author has passed away.” — New York Herald. 

“ In these sermons subjects were chosen which come home to every 
individual some time in his life whether he is in one church or another, or 
in no church ; and they were treated in such a broad way that they could 
be beneficial to all. The sermons have one excellent merit which it would 
be well if some of those given in pulpits could be patterned after — they 
are brief and strictly to the point. Some of the sermons which are par- 
ticularly helpful or suggestive are, ‘A Wasted Life,’ ‘ Prayer,’ ‘ The 
Problem of Poverty,’ ‘Why Do We Suffer?’ ‘Heroes and Heroines,’ 

‘ Bearing Good Fruit,’ 4 Do What You Think Is Right,’ ‘ Little 
People Who Live Little Lives,’ and ‘You Shall Have Strength.’ These 
are a few of those in the volume, every one of which will contain some 
word for some one in trouble or doubt.” — Boston Transcript. 

“ They are addressed to men and women entangled in the perplexities 
of life, and help them not so much by opening to them a larger faith as by 
disclosing to them the hope and comfort which lies in the faith they now 
hold.” — Independent. 

“A volume of unusual interest. These sermons have already reached 
large congregations. They ought to, and doubtless will, in the present 
form reach still larger. They will be found helpful, all the more so be- 
cause of their freedom from dogma, and of their fresh, vigorous dealing 
with practical questions and problems.” — Boston Daily Advertiser. 


Sent by mail , postpaid , on receipt of price. 

E. P. DUTTON & CO., PUBLISHERS, 
31 West 23d Street, New York. 


Hiram Golf’s Religion; 

or, 

“ The Shoemaker by the Grace of God.” 

By GEORGE H. HEPWORTH. 

13th thousand. i6mo, 134 pages, cloth, 75 cents. 

“ Plain talks of a shoemaker and a parson. They are in dialect ; the 
style is both quaint and strong. A book that gives the reader something 
to think about. . . . The sterling, homely common sense of the book 

is commanding wide attention.” — The Evangelist. 

“This little book contains, in quaint and simple sketches, the essence 
of practical Christianity. Hiram Golf is a man who exemplifies the pre- 
cept, ‘ Whether ye eat or drink, or whatever ye do, do all to the glory of 
God.’ His talks with the young minister are the best sort of lay sermons, 
and his life is at once a model and an inspiration. The book cannot fail 
to be of service to ministers and laymen alike.” — New York Observer. 

“ The point is that serving God consists in doing His will, especially 
so as to benefit one’s fellow men and women wherever one finds himself. 
It is a powerful and touching little story and should have a large circula- 
tion.” — Congregationalist. 

“ This book is a small volume, but contains wisdom in large chunks. 
Hiram was a poor shoemaker who mended shoes, and was just as much an 
adept in mending worn-out, tired souls. His talks are eminently practical 
and adapted to benefit all the army of grumblers. Hiram’s religion has 
nothing in it that is dyspeptic, which is more than can be said of many 
good, well-meaning people. The little book has wonderfully good prac- 
tical lessons, adapted to every-day life, on every page.” — The Inter-Ocean. 

“ About a year ago a little book was published which won for itself 
thousands of readers in a very few months. ‘ Hiram Golf’s Religion ’ 
was one of the sturdy books that make men live better, because it makes 
them think better. The homely sayings of the old shoemaker made every 
one study himself.” — Books and Authors. 

“If every Christian minister and layman would read this little book 
and put into practical life its wholesome suggestions, there would be a 

great change in the tone of many Christian communities One 

will have a truer idea of the value of a small place for winning souls after 
reading this keen, practical, helpful book. Would that there many more 
like it.” — Religious Telescope. 


THEY MET IN HEAVEN 


By GEORGE H. HEPWORTH. 

5th thousand. i6mo, 216 pages, cloth, 75 cents. 

An account of The Fireside Club and its discussions during the 
winter preceding the death of Hiram Golf. 

“ This is a tender and helpful study in religious experiences. . . . 

To many Dr. Hepworth’s method may be a hand stretched out from 
heaven. To all it will be a book of pure, gentle and persuasive Christian 
inspiration. . . .We have no doubt that an inquirer like Van Brunt, 

shut up in the dark, barren and hopeless cage of intellectual orthodoxy 
and spiritual leanness, would find Hiram Golf’s method a door open 
into faith.” — Independent. 

44 It tells of a small club of friends, one of whom is Hiram Golf, the 
now well-known ‘ shoemaker by the grace of God,’ and how their chats 
brought trust and peace to one bereaved, despairing and almost crazed, by 
unfolding to him the hopes of heaven and of reunion with the beloved 
dead which the gospel suggests. I t is eminently readable, and is practical 
and inspiring.” — Co ngregatio n alist . 

“ The reading public, after enjoying 4 Hiram Golf’s Religion’ by this 
same talented author, will cordially welcome this very interesting com- 
panion volume. It is a gem of the first water, like the other. It portrays 
in a skilful, yet natural and tender manner, a case of genuine religious ex- 
perience. It shows how men, struggling in deep mental and moral dark- 
ness — the most unlikely subjects of conquering grace — may be led out into 
life and faith and hope and heaven. Books of this character have a 
blessed mission, and should be warmly received and widely read. The 
narrative portions are fascinating. The whole is put in a most charming 
and persuasive way .” — Christian Intelligencer. 


THE LIFE BEYOND. 

This Mortal Must Put on Immortality. 

By GEORGE H. HEPWORTH. 

2nd thousand. i6mo, 116 pages, cloth, 75 cents. 

44 The author of this choice book is pleased to think that he has made 
no single statement which can in any proper sense be called original ; but 
he has given the oldest truths and the commonest beliefs a freshness of put- 
ting and illustration better than originality. He tells the old, old story : 
he tells it in a way to stimulate interest and desire and afford consolation 
to the wearied and forlorn, who are seeking for sources of comfort in the 
unseen and immeasurable things beyond the vail.” — Zion' s Herald. 

44 The thoughts presented are expressed clearly and forcibly, and in a 
style fitted to commend them to tried and sorrowing hearts ." —Watchman. 




























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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